Shouting Back to the Night
by Kindre Turnany
Summary: Stiles thinks he is healing until he fights for his life and finds himself grinning. Haha, No has no intention of letting the Joker and his Beast run free.
1. Outrunning

**Shouting Back to the Night**

Part Two of** Watchtower**

Sequel to **This is Not Our Fate**

**Warnings: **graphic depictions of violence, underage, language

A/N: The title comes from a line in "These Are the Times" by Styx.

I realize it looks very much like I _should_ be working on Breathing Smoke but am, in fact, not working on Breathing Smoke. That's because Breathing Smoke has betas to make it fantastic, and it's their turn. This fic does not have betas, so while it may be less awesome than they could make it, I can upload it much faster.

**Part One: Outrunning**

The thing breathed. The rush of air spoke to its size, and Stiles reminded himself that the sound only seemed to echo all around him because he was under stress. And scared out of his mind. The breaths were uneven, some short, some almost equal to Derek's, others... Stiles smirked. The long breaths carried a hint of a wheeze. That was weakness, and weakness could be exploited. He tapped the back of his hand against Derek's shoulder and then ran his fingers along his neck to his chest where flesh and bone concealed his lungs. Derek nodded, but then he shrugged and shook his head. The thing was still too strong. They needed something else.

The sound of breathing neared, and heavy footsteps reached the end of the row of cars Derek and Stiles hid behind. They shuffle-crawled around a corner to avoid being caught. Plenty of cars and hiding places at an off-hour car dealership. Stiles caught a hint of red at the corner of his eye and nearly hissed. Derek was bleeding again. Stiles shot his hand at the air in front of Derek's wounded arm and then pulled it back. Derek shrugged again. He was pale. His eyes drifted to the shadow under the car, narrowed as he half-snarled, and snapped back to Stiles as he came out of it. He was losing it. This was bad.

Stiles ripped another length of cloth from his shirt, hoping the sound wouldn't carry, and wrapped it over the blood-soaked bandage on Derek's shoulder. His werewolf healing should have kicked in by now. Stiles grimaced as the thing's footsteps quickened. It had heard him. He pulled Derek away, but Derek jerked him another direction at the last minute. When they stopped, Stiles peeked out to see what had driven Derek back.

It was a man, maybe Derek's age, with brown skin and bleached blond hair. For one moment, Stiles wondered if they should warn him there was a monster loose. Then the thing found him and rested it's misshapen muzzle against the man's outstretched hand. This was its master. He patted the thing's snout like someone consoling their pet dog.

Stiles turned to Derek and mouthed, _Human?_

Derek nodded. _Yes._

One human. One monster. Check and check. Stiles tried not to imagine a wall of bars blocking him and Derek in, but then he saw the fence around the dealership and almost laughed aloud. He settled for a grin and tugged on Derek's jacket. They would be seen if they made a break for the fence. Stiles couldn't leap it, and if he tried to climb, the thing would catch up before he got over. Derek rubbed at his shoulder. He was worried then. With a bad shoulder, he couldn't help Stiles over. Escaping here wouldn't solve the problem anyway, just prolong it. Stiles had texted most of the pack before he lost his phone. At least one of them had to check their messages at some point tonight.

There was a crash against their backs. Metal and plastic crunched, and the car reshaped to jab at their flesh. Stiles ran. He didn't look back, but he did shout Derek's name.

"Keep running, Joker!" His voice was strained, and not nearly close enough. Derek had tried attacking the thing to help Stiles escape.

Stiles spun and found himself facing the human. He used the momentum of his turn to drive his fist against the human's face. The tackle that the man turned his run into when Stiles stopped added to the force of the punch. It also drove them both to the ground. They fell, turning with Stiles' momentum, and he strained to land on top of the other man. Then he pulled his fist back to ram it against his face. The man tried to claw at Stiles' eyes, so Stiles bit at his fingers. He almost caught one, but he kept his focus on pummeling the human into the ground.

The man's eyes left Stiles in favor of his monster. Stiles jumped up and ran again just before the thing reached him. It stopped to check on its partner. Stiles circled around to Derek and found him on the ground covered in slashes and blood. They would need a lot more shirts to bandage that. Stiles pulled Derek to his feet and let him lean against his side. Derek wasn't nearly as big as he had seemed back when Stiles still feared him, but he was big enough to slow Stiles significantly. They would get all of nowhere like this. Stiles dragged Derek toward the fence anyway. He couldn't leave him behind.

The thing howled, and only a moment later, Stiles was on the ground again. It was fast. Faster than it had been earlier, if that was possible. Stiles rolled when he landed and found his feet again. Derek was not so lucky. The thing took a slow step forward, growling. It was playing with them, already relishing its victory.

One small knife waited in Stiles' pants' pocket. It was all he had after wasting his other blades against this thing, but this looked like a last stand to him. Derek struggled to stand on his own and spat blood onto the asphalt. Stiles pulled the knife from his pocket and opened it. The thing made a noise like laughter. Stiles didn't blame it. He raised the knife like he had a chance of stabbing something with it and charged, screaming, at the monster.

He kept the knife raised so it would think he meant to stab it's throat or eye. It laughed again and lifted an arm to smack him down. Stiles ran until he was almost in reach of the thing's claws, and then he dropped to the ground just as it began to swing for him. He rolled and slashed at the back of its ankle to hamstring it as he moved past it.

The thing screamed and fell. The wheeze in its breathing was louder this way, but Stiles didn't wait around to listen. He didn't know how fast the thing would heal, so as soon as he regained his feet, Stiles ran full-speed at the human where he sat propped against a car. He stood as Stiles approached, but by the way his eyes drifted and he stumbled slightly on his feet, he was hurt badly, probably concussed. Stiles flashed him his killing grin and slashed the tiny knife through his throat.

As the human fell, Stiles spun, weapon raised. The thing would have followed him. He found it only feet behind him, the sound of its approached covered by his own loud breathing and the slap of his feet against asphalt. It was frozen now, stunned by the death of its master or friend or—hopefully not—lover. Its partner.

Stiles leapt at it to reach as high as its eyes, and he stabbed his knife into one. He caught onto the thing's head with his free arm and set his feet against its chest. The knife slid easily out of its eye and into the other. Stiles pressed it deeper this time. Then he slit the thing's huge, hairy throat just to be sure. He leapt out of the way as it fell forward and stood, gasping for breath, unable for a moment to remember what he should do now. There should have been sand, he thought.

Derek coughed. The sound barely reached Stiles past that of his own pounding heart. Someone shouted. Stiles' heart slowed. Footsteps echoed off asphalt and metal. Stiles closed his eyes and breathed as slowly as he could. When he opened his eyes, he turned back to Derek and found the pack scattered around him, staring at Stiles. They were close enough for him to see the gears working behind their eyes as they realized Stiles had killed the monster, not Derek.

No one had helped Derek stand. Their shock was too distracting. Stiles started walking toward the pack, but his leg buckled under him. Strange. He didn't remember being hurt. His adrenaline was fading now though, and behind it waited pain. Blood leaked from gashes on the back of his leg. The ground between him and the pack was clean, so the thing had caught him here, probably when he leapt at it, thinking it too stunned to fight back. Stiles wished he remembered for sure. He gritted his teeth against the pain and forced his leg to take his weight. Stiles limped to the friends who had come too late as they watched. No one offered to help.

"You're late," he told them.

"Oh, uh, sorry?" Scott stammered at last, looking back and forth between Stiles' leg and the dead monster he'd left behind.

"It looks like you handled it without us," Allison added. Her wide eyes looked more impressed than confused. "How did you kill it? We've been trying for weeks."

Stiles shrugged and bit back a grin. "It's easier to fight like I'm dying when I really am." No one looked comfortable with that answer. "Also I used my brain and tricked it, okay. I'm smart. It was dumb."

"If by 'smart,' you mean 'crazy,'" Derek muttered. He'd finally found his feet.

"Yes, that too."

"Who is that?" Scott asked. "He doesn't look like he was mauled by a monster."

"He was the thing's partner," Stiles said. "He's also the only reason I was able to beat it, so I thank him, whoever the hell he was." Stiles turned on his good leg and gave the guy a bow. He friends were looking at him like he was crazy again. Stiles shrugged it off and made his way to Derek's side. When Derek raised an eyebrow, Stiles realized he was grinning again. Old habits, he guessed.

Stiles tried to help Derek stand, but Derek took on his weight instead. "What are you doing?" he asked. "You're way more injured than I am."

"Your heartbeat's almost stable. I'd guess you have less than a minute left."

"Left until what?" Stiles rolled his eyes, but then what he'd done hit him. They had been hunting the monster as a pack, never able to do more than drive it back and retreat to lick their wounds until next time. And Stiles had charged it. Alone. With a pocket knife. And won.

His body shook with weakness and all the terror he'd fought back earlier. His breath came in gasps. He should have died. He knees buckled and failed him, but Derek caught Stiles and held him against his chest. He was sticky with blood, but warm and strong. He felt safe. Stiles squeezed his eyes shut against risking both their lives for an insane last stand, but the backs of his eyelids looked like prison bars. Stiles' body shook. Derek held him still. For an instant, Stiles thought this wasn't real. He had died. Derek had died. This was the last flicker of nerves in his brain giving him a good dream before he passed into nothing. The moment stretched on. Stiles clung to Derek's jacket with what little strength was left to him.

When he could breathe again, Stiles found everyone pretending not to watch. He tried to thank Derek for holding him even though they weren't supposed to be so close anymore, but he couldn't find the words to wrap his lips around. All his mouth could find was Derek's, and that seemed like enough, at least until Scott pulled him away from the kiss with some apologetic mumbling about promises to his father. Stiles didn't have it in him to grin at that, but he stepped away from Derek and let Scott take him home.

**~.x.~**

Derek's new loft seemed small compared to his old house. But it was stable and not half ash. Stiles figured that had to count for something. He leaned back into an armchair and thought real, not destroyed furniture was also a plus. Derek sat on the couch, but with members of the pack there to chaperone, he and Stiles kept their distance. They were allowed to be friends. Sort of. They were not allowed to be boyfriends. At all.

"How can we still not know anything?" Scott asked. He gave his hair a frustrated tug and groaned. "We have the thing. Can't we, like, study it or something?"

"We have been," Peter pointed out. "And it's definitely dead."

Stiles rolled his eyes. They'd had to do something with the bodies, and apparently letting Peter claim them for study had sounded like a better idea than leaving them for the police to find. Stiles didn't understand why they needed more information. He'd eliminated the threat. They could all move on now.

_Because I'm obviously so good at moving on, _Stiles thought with a too-long glance at Derek where he lounged against the couch, staring at the ceiling with the sort of attractive boredom Stiles thought only supermodels bothered to master. Derek's fingers twitched. He wanted to seem uninterested, but there was something bothering him.

A human and a monster in a pair. Stiles and Derek had seen that before, in a long-repeating pattern that ended with a scared girl and a horrible monster. Stiles wondered if the thing had been one of the lead scientist's experiments. He didn't know the man's name, just his grin and the bad joke of a nametag he wore that read, "Haha, No." Some part of Stiles had thought Haha, No's work would be done when his alpha kanima died, but people rarely worked like that. If one project failed, life went on; they found another. Maybe he was making his own kanimas now.

"Did you let Deaton look at it?" Scott demanded, complete with accusatory finger jab.

"Yes." Peter drew out the word, probably just because he could. "He agrees that it's dead."

"That's not what I meant."

"He can't figure it out either. Or if he can, he's not telling me." Peter sighed like he didn't deserve to be universally distrusted.

"What about the human?" Allison asked. Stiles snapped his attention to her and realized Derek had done the same. She eyed them both. "Okay, now I _definitely_ want to know about the human. What's up with you guys?"

Derek studied the ceiling intently. Stiles studied his own hands. There was dirt under his nails. Lydia would yell at him for that.

"He's just a human. He's not important," Peter said.

"Matt was human too. Gerard was human." Allison narrowed her eyes when Derek tensed. Stiles cursed mentally. He'd been prepared for it. Clearly Derek hadn't. But why had Stiles bothered to brace himself? He shook the tension away and reminded himself that these were friends, allies.

"We hide out of reflex," Stiles said with a sigh. He should have told them the instant he suspected Haha, No. Well, not the instant because he'd been hiding behind a car, but sooner than this, certainly. "The place we were taken was arranged in pairs with a human and a werewolf for each."

"They were studying the kanima, right?" Scott asked.

"Yeah, but they were studying the connection between shifter and human specifically." Stiles struggled with how to explain the rest of his thoughts.

"That's not really a lead. Matt and Jackson linked to each other without an evil scientist's help." Peter raised an eyebrow.

"But anyone who got out of that facility would have reason to attack us," Allison said. Maybe the pack was right not to move on, Stiles realized. Maybe it didn't end with these two.

"Because we took it out," Scott added.

"Yes, I got that, Scott." Peter set his hands against the back of Stiles' armchair, and Stiles thought his fingernails might have changed shape slightly. It was too little to be sure.

"And we killed their kanima alpha."

"I got that too."

"And set their prisoners free."

"Yes, Scott." That time his nails definitely shifted, still only a little. "We all get it."

"I don't get it," Stiles lied with an easy smile.

Peter's eyes flashed, but Stiles thought he caught a hint of amusement.

Derek shifted his legs and glared at Peter. Stiles paused to study him because that was clearly jealousy. It was surprisingly hot on Derek. Most things were.

"So are you going to tell us anything about the human?"

"He carried no ID. Died of a slit throat, probably Stiles' doing. Was important enough to the creature to stun it by dying." Peter shrugged.

"I think they were linked mentally," Stiles said. "It was more than emotionally stunned. It was like it literally couldn't act while the bond dissolved."

Derek nodded, and Stiles thought Derek had linked this back to the alpha kanima too. He confirmed it when he said, "It froze exactly like the kanima did when Stiles killed its master."

The others nodded agreement.

"The kanima was supposed to be an abomination," Stiles said, "But this shifter looked way worse." The kanima looked like a humanoid lizard. The thing looked like... a thing. It's pieces fit together poorly, more like Frankenstein's version of a monster than like the monster itself. It lacked the grace of other shifters, and Stiles thought the wheeze in its breathing might have been an inherent part of its form, not sign of wound or sickness.

"You think it's worse than a kanima?" Allison asked. "Or just... less natural?"

Stiles nodded. "I think he made it."

"The human?" She clearly doubted that, which was good, because it wasn't what he meant.

"He means the scientist," Derek said. "The one who used to have a kanima."

"I call him Haha, No."

"That's a weird name" Scott said.

"No, like, it's a joke from his—never mind. I don't know his name."

"How exactly do you get from 'It has a master,' to 'My evil scientist friend made it'?" Peter asked, leaning over the armchair.

"I am remarkably skilled at reading his intent? I _don't_ know for sure. It just... feels right." Stiles shrugged. He knew it wasn't enough, but most of his ideas about Haha, No's experiments had been based on not enough information. They'd also been right.

"I'll... keep it in mind." Peter's tone was grudging. He left the room without saying goodbye, and Stiles doubted he planned on returning any time soon.

They sat in silence after he left. No one knew anything more. Stiles shifted in his seat and considered a joke to cut through the awkwardness.

"I want to talk to Stiles." Not quite what Stiles would have gone with, but Derek rarely spoke anymore except to say something practical.

"We're not stopping you." Scott motioned to Stiles as if telling Derek to go ahead.

"Alone." He raised an eyebrow.

Scott glanced at Allison. "I don't think we're supposed to—"

"No," Stiles cut in. "You're not my guardian. He just wants to talk to me. Without you. You should go."

"I promised your dad I'd look out for you."

"In case you've forgotten, I took out the thing and its partner single-handedly. I don't think I need you to look out for me." Stiles grinned for Scott.

Scott's mouth opened and closed.

Allison pulled at his arm. "We'll be waiting downstairs," she told Derek and Stiles as she led Scott from room. Allison knew a little about being forced away from someone. Scott should have too.

Stiles moved to the couch, but stayed at its edge when he saw Derek press against the opposite arm. "Did I do something again?"

Derek shook his head. "I said I didn't care about anything else as long as I could see you." Stiles nodded. He remembered. "I just think I was wrong." Derek clamped his teeth together once the words were out. His eyes closed, but the tensioned didn't fade before he opened them again.

"You don't want to see me anymore." Stiles shook his head because that wasn't quite right. "You don't think you should see me anymore."

"I think I called you Joker instead of Stiles the other night."

"It was a high-stress situation. I kept thinking of that place too."

"Tonight you joked with my uncle, and I nearly tore his throat out for it."

"That is a little excessive, I admit." He lifted his hands like pans of a balance, shifting before they stabilized. "But on the other hand, Peter is a crazy son of a bitch and probably deserves it for something else anyway."

"That's not the point."

"But you don't deny it."

"Don't change the subject."

Stiles let out a slow breath. "Sorry. I just... I don't like not seeing you."

"Me neither."

"But you think it will help?"

Derek nodded.

"Then I guess I won't call you unless you call me."

Derek nodded again. He teeth were clenched too tightly to speak.

"Goodbye, Derek." Stiles left without looking back. He had seen the gleam at the corner of Derek's eye and knew he wouldn't want Stiles to see him cry.

**~.x.~**

Living without Derek made Stiles itch for another monster to kill. He couldn't control that, so he got Peter to take him to the old one instead. It lay beside its partner in a double circle of wolfsbane and ash. Its blood had dried and matted into its fur and scales, but otherwise it looked as Stiles remembered. So did the human, though Stiles was close enough now to study scars he hadn't noticed in the darkness during their fight. He cursed himself for missing them. Scars were important. The human had burn scars on his arms and a jagged slash across his collar bone. There were smaller marks at his temple, pinpricks surrounded by a ring of irritated skin.

Stiles touched his own temple. He'd had marks like those once.

"Why aren't they rotting?" he asked as he stripped the human's shirt out of the way.

"Deaton's doing. Something mixed in with the ash." Peter stepped forward into the circle. "I thought you wanted to see the monster."

Stiles paused, confused. He _was_ studying the monster. They had been on the burn level, and the monster had often been slow to his human's defense. There were old scars from human-shaped fingernails along the human's neck and face. Then he remembered that Peter hadn't been there. He wouldn't understand. "If they were together, the human would show the scars, but the wolf would heal."

Peter was giving him that look again. The one that meant Stiles was crazier than he was even though Peter was obviously a psychopath. Stiles' eyes returned to the human's wrist, trying to tell if the scars there were from rope or metal, but he felt Peter's eyes on him. He turned and found exactly the expression he'd imagined.

"I wondered for a long time why he didn't use implants to study us. I knew he wanted readings." Stiles winced at the pain in his leg as he shifted toward the human's feet and pulled off the his shoes and socks to study his ankles. He'd never been able to look at the ankles before, but he'd noticed the way some humans walked gingerly like they'd been damaged. There were scars there to match those on his wrist.

"There were a lot of captives there. It was probably impractical."

"Yeah, I figured that, though you're an asshole for having it instantly, just so you know." Peter shrugged at that. He looked smug. "In my defense, I was half insane," Stiles added in a mutter he knew Peter would hear clearly.

"And you're not now?"

"More like a quarter insane now. Anyway, then I wondered, why not just use implants on the top specimens then?"

Peter tilted his head to consider that one. He tapped a finger against his leg and eventually shrugged. "I'm sure you have an answer for me."

Stiles set his finger against the dead human's temple and traced the outline of the circle Haha, No's suction cupped needle had left. "He wanted to have fun," he said, "So he had them brought to him so he could play while he studied."

"Thank you, Stiles, now everything makes sense."

Stiles rolled his eyes. "He had a science torture setup, basically. Tiny needles for the temples, throat, and chest." He traced the marks on each area as he spoke. "The needles were held in place by suction cups." He traced the irritated area again for Peter. "He used it to activate nerves as well as take readings."

Peter crouched beside Stiles and studied the marks. "You had these too when you came back," he said, like he'd only just remembered. If one member of the pack noted and understood scars, it was Peter.

"The only way to see the machine was to be in it."

Peter nodded. "I thought the wolf and human were always together."

"What?"

"Derek noticed the same marks but couldn't tell me where they came from."

"Derek was here?"

"He didn't stay long." Peter stood, but not before Stiles caught a flash of amusement in his eyes.

Stiles wondered if Derek counted as a scar. Partners had been a given when they were captives. Everyone had one, everyone except Jorge who died. It was different out here though. Stiles looked at the thing lying beside his monster. He had only killed it because it had a partner. The human had been its weakness, not a strength. The muscles around Stiles' eye spasmed briefly, an echo of the twitch that haunted him in the View.

"I can see what you're doing, you know."

"I'm not doing anything." He should have been studying the human's scars, but he'd been too distracted by his own.

"You're reassessing Derek's importance based on how easily you were distracted by just his name."

"Oh." Damn it. That was the same as admitting it. Stiles shook his head. He couldn't afford to be off-balance like this, especially not with someone who knew enough to use it against him.

"You want to see something fun?" Peter smirked and motioned for Stiles to step outside the ring with him.

When Stiles followed, careful to stand with his weight on his good leg, Peter took hold of a rope anchored to a pillar. The rope stretched to a pulley near the ceiling and then down to the edge of the circle around the thing and its partner. As Peter pulled, the wolfsbane circle rose, but the slightly smaller ash circle remained undisturbed. Stiles remembered when he and Scott discovered Laura Hale where Derek had buried her. At first she appeared to be a wolf, but when Stiles removed the wolfsbane surrounding her, she reverted to human form. He focused his eyes on the thing.

It shifted slowly, like its body resisted human form. If it hadn't been dead, Stiles suspected the transformation would actually hurt. The face was the worst. The snout caved in with a crunch like crushed bone. The bone jerked beneath the skin until it locked together in the shape of a human skull, but the teeth were still too large and locked the jaw open until they too shrank down to human size. They remained sharp, and Stiles suspected they had been filed.

The fur disappeared from its body, but the scaly patches remained. In its shifted form, the thing's fur had covered it, but now, as he moved closer again, Stiles saw scar tissue surrounding where scales had been grafted onto its skin. He wondered what you had to do to a werewolf for it to keep its scars and glanced at Peter. He'd born his scars for six years. Would this shifter also heal if given enough time? It didn't matter now since Stiles had already killed the thing.

Even with the... additions, it looked less like a thing this way. If he pretended the scales were tattoos, it just looked like a woman with a piquing interest in body modification. Stiles set a finger against the scales to remind himself that they were real and wondered what else Haha, No had done to her.

"I thought you said it would be fun," Stiles said as he studied the corpse.

"I never said fun for her."

"Haha, No would have liked you."

"I take it that's not a compliment."

Stiles shrugged. "I think he liked me too."

"And studying them has you more convinced this is his doing."

Stiles nodded even though Peter clearly didn't need an answer. He tried to imagine the partners when they'd been alive. They could have been normal once, or they could have been more like Derek, beaten down even before Haha, No got them. They would have been desperate afterward. Afraid, confused, willing to kill rather than be killed. He didn't recognize them from the View, but the human's scars rose from a familiar source.

The marks on his wrists and ankles meant he would have been delirious, barely able to move, but filled with enough desperation to push his body past the point of breaking because if he didn't, he'd have been dead. Stiles shuddered. He'd never seen that level himself, but he'd seen the ones who had. It was usually a death sentence. That meant these two were strong.

And they had come to Beacon Hills.

Haha, No wouldn't have freed them. He would have broken them, made them too afraid to disobey him, or whichever figurehead he used now in place of his alpha kanima. Stiles wondered if that was the fate meant for him. For Derek.

"I have to go," he said. Peter shrugged as he passed but didn't stop him. He didn't seem amused anymore.

**~.x.~**

The dining room hadn't gotten smaller in the last ten minutes, but the walls still seemed to close in. Stiles chewed on his bottom lip and stared at the table. His hands were together in his lap, still except for brief waves of tension. He didn't have time for this.

"Look at me, Stiles."

He raised his gaze to meet his father's. He looked old and tired and scared. Stiles tried not to hold it against him since it was worry for Stiles that aged him, but Stiles didn't need his concern anymore. He was fine.

"You've pulled away again recently." His voice was worn, not stern.

"I'm fine," Stiles insisted. "Haven't had a panic attack in two weeks, and my leg is healing nicely. I can sort of jog without crying much."

"Your pupils are dilated." He pointed at Stiles' eyes. "I haven't checked yet, but if I did, your pulse would be racing. You keep twitching. And you skipped your last three therapy sessions."

"One of those doesn't count because I was at the hospital." Getting his leg sewn up and telling lies about mountain lions.

"And the rest?"

"I don't know, Dad, why don't you tell me?"

"Your body is overproducing adrenaline. You haven't had a panic attack because you've trained yourself not to until you come down, and you haven't yet."

"You've been talking to Scott's mom again, haven't you?" Stiles narrowed his eyes.

"Where have you been spending all your time?" That wasn't an answer. That was an abrupt change of topic. Stiles couldn't hold it against him since he'd just done the same thing.

"Out?" With Peter and his dead monsters, mostly. Derek didn't want him, and his other friends treated him like his dad was now.

"Stiles."

"You can't act like I'm about to break for the rest of my life, okay. I said I'm fine, and I am."

"You haven't been sleeping either."

"Of course I've been sleeping."

"Doesn't count unless you beat two hours a night. No, you know what, it doesn't count unless you beat six hours a night." He pinched the bridge of his nose. "I'm worried about you, son."

"I caught that and told you to stop." Stiles stood.

"Sit down," his father ordered, but Stiles stamped past him.

His feet were bare, but Stiles didn't care. He left the house, slamming the door behind him the way the soldier-types had slammed the doors to the cellblocks. His keys were in his jacket in his room on the back of his computer chair, so he turned down the sidewalk and walked. When the door opened behind him, Stiles started to run. Maybe Stiles' leg was injured, but his father was old and tired and scared. Stiles outran him.


	2. Resisting

There is a character in this story who I have reused from another, unrelated Teen Wolf fanfic. These are alternate timelines for that character, so the other fic doesn't exist for this one and this fic doesn't exist for that one. I hope that makes sense. (I just like the character, okay.)

**Part Two: Resisting**

Stiles threw popcorn at Peter's head. It bounced off his hair, then off the dead thing's snout before hitting the ground. Stiles snickered and leaned back into one of the camping chairs Peter had bought for his diabolical warehouse of were-thing and partner corpses. The popcorn machine had been Stiles' doing. He couldn't decide if Peter was amused or angry and liked the mystery of that. Other people were too easy to read.

"I amworking here." Peter didn't turn his head. Not like he'd gotten anything new figured out.

"So'm I. Working hard."

Stiles' cell phone went off before either of them could think of anything witty to add. "It's Scott," he said when he'd opened the text. "Apparently he's about to die again."

"Must be sundown." Peter stood and brushed dirt from the knees of his jeans. "They need backup?"

Stiles shrugged. "Says they're at the school. Let's find out."

"You do realize they're going to yell at me if I let you near danger."

"Pretty sure neither of us actually cares." Stiles grinned when Peter answered with a smirk.

"Let's go then." He jangled his car keys and led the way.

The school was dark except for a flash of light from the gym. Stiles and Peter followed it, making as little sound as possible. When his leg protested the silent, crouching run, Stiles gritted his teeth and refused to ask Peter to slow down. He was perfectly capable of sneaking into a high school gym.

As they neared, Stiles made out the vague sound of shouting, though nothing so specific as words. He suspected Peter could hear, but his pace remained steady. That could mean they had time or that Peter just didn't care. The voice was Scott's. Stiles wished he understood the muffled syllables.

The gym lent itself poorly to stealth. It had two entrances, both obvious. Peter made for a window, and Stiles joined him to peek in, finding another monster inside, this one with the sleek black fur and smooth muscle of a panther. It also had hooves. Those couldn't be practical. Haha, No was screwing with shit just for the hell of it now. The new thing was hunched forward, fangs bared, threatening, even though it's prey, Scott and Allison, already lay on the floor, the former covered in blood and the latter wide-eyed with rage. Behind them stood a human with a frown and a gun.

Scott's shouting made sense from this distance, even to Stiles' human ears. He wanted them to keep him and let Allison go. No wonder she looked pissed. Something was off though. Allison gestured with her left arm, pointing and yelling, and telling Scott they would get out of this together, but Allison was right handed. There was a thin, too-straight highlight along the outer edge of Allison's right boot. She was armed. They were making a scene to get one of them close enough to Allison for her to stab it with a concealed knife.

How did they make plans like that _without talking? _

The monster and its human kept Allison there with a gun pointed at her head. They moved their mouths, but Stiles couldn't hear the words. Peter would, he knew, but he couldn't risk asking when the thing below could hear him. It looked like an interrogation. Trap two people, threaten one to get information from the other, profit.

Either they were careless or expected no trouble because neither human nor were-thing kept watch. Their focus remained on Scott and Allison. No, Stiles realized, there was a third option. They weren't alone. He elbowed Peter, held up two fingers, and shook his head. For a moment he thought Peter wouldn't get it, but then his eyes widened and he shook his head in obvious disappointment at himself. He closed his eyes and breathed deeply and slowly, motioning for Stiles to make a little less noise with his own breathing. When he opened his eyes, they glowed.

Peter tackled Stiles. Before he could protest, Peter jerked Stiles along, sliding Stiles' bad leg across the ground and smashing it down before it was ready to hold his weight. Stiles fell to his knees. Only then did he see the other one. It looked like a werewolf. Nothing special, except that Stiles thought he'd seen her before. In the Freezer. And later, after the View, when she urged them to take out the kanima to avenge her pack-brother and her partner.

Stiles opened his mouth to ask what she was doing working for Haha, No, and she jerked a finger toward her mouth to shush him. Then she pointed toward the school and crouched behind the shrubbery. When Peter stared at her like she'd grown and extra head and Stiles stared at her like he'd forgotten how to think, she motioned for them to crouch. Stiles tugged on Peter's coat to pull him down just before someone turned the corner of the school building.

It was a human, or looked it anyway. She paused, looking both ways even though her eyes couldn't do much good in the darkness. She turned away without noticing Stiles and the werewolves in the bushes.

Peter tapped Stiles to get his attention and raised an eyebrow as if to ask, _Friend of yours?_

Stiles shrugged.

The familiar werewolf rolled her eyes. Stiles couldn't decide if Haha, No had sent her or not. If not, another were-something waited out there. If so, she wanted to lure them into a trap, which meant another were-something waited out there anyway. Stiles studied her, hoping to find some clue on her person. She had her dark, curly hair pulled back, and her fingernails were chipped and broken. There was dirt under them and in the seams of her clothes. She wore jeans, sneakers, and an open plaid shirt with a sweater underneath. It all looked cheap, though Stiles wondered if it was stolen. She wore no makeup and smelled like cheap hand soap, the kind stocked in public restrooms. Stiles suspected she was homeless, on the run, trying to pass as normal enough that Haha, No's scouts wouldn't notice her. Or she wanted Stiles to think that so she could lure him in.

Stiles rubbed his eyes. He still couldn't risk speaking, but he needed to check on Scott and Allison. He motioned to the window, silently asking Peter if it was safe to move out from cover. Peter shrugged. Asshole. He smirked.

Then Peter pulled on Stiles' arm to lead him back to the windows. Allison had gotten her knife out since they saw her last, though she'd left it stabbed through the human's thigh when she got her hands on the gun. This was a much better time to charge in. As Stiles prepared to motion Peter toward the door, he saw something move across the gym, someone else peeking through the opposite windows. He barely recognized Derek before something grabbed him from behind. Stiles couldn't see what, but he had an idea. There was at least one more shifter out here somewhere.

Stiles turned to run around the gym instead of into it, not bothering to see if Peter followed. He had to help Derek. His leg burned. He'd already abused it too much tonight, and it would give out on him now if he wasn't careful. If he was lucky, the enemy wouldn't know, but he couldn't hope for them not to notice. He favored the leg every few steps even as he ran. Healing well wasn't the same as ready for abuse.

Guns made too much noise for Stiles, but he had knives on him. He pulled his belt knife. The risk of reaching the monster unarmed was worse than that of falling and impaling himself. When he turned the last corner, he saw them and cursed his human eyes because Derek and his attacker were a shifting blob of shadow surrounded by still shadows. Either shadow could be Derek in this light. That didn't stop Stiles from running forward and hoping their forms became clearer as he eliminated the extra distance. Someone ran past him, and Stiles felt that it was Peter even though he moved too fast to tell.

Peter ripped Derek and the shifter apart. He turned beside one shadow to face against the other, and Stiles knew where to throw his knife. It wasn't something he could manage while running, so he paused. And got tackled again, this time from behind.

Stiles rolled as soon as he hit the ground. He needed to see his attacker. For a moment the long hair made him think of the werewolf, but then he realized it was the human they'd hidden from earlier. Stiles almost laughed. He could handle a human. Then her eyes glowed, and Stiles nearly pissed himself. Not a human. He kicked wildly at her face, and she brushed aside his attack. Head-on wasn't the way to face a supernatural monster, not for humans anyway. So Stiles scrambled backward. She followed; he'd known she would. She shoved him down and straddled him, bringing up her claws to slash through his neck or face or chest or wherever she pleased. Stiles flinched, bringing one hand to uselessly cover his face. The other arm jerked forward too, but it was holding a knife. Stiles had its blade rammed up under her ribs before the shifter realized that hadn't been just a flinch.

She grunted. It was not a hurt grunt, not even an impressed grunt, just a contact grunt. Stiles pushed at her, suddenly more desperate to get away. He had other knives, but something was _wrong _here. The shifter pulled the knife out with one hand while she pinned Stiles with the other.

There was no blood on the blade.

Stiles screamed. Stealth was no longer an option, and he needed backup. Immediately. Better yet, yesterday. And nothing summoned werewolves faster than screaming. His own knife blade slid lightly along the skin of his jaw, quieting his scream. Behind it, the shifter smiled. She was toying with him now. Stiles wondered if she knew him, if this was about having fun with a human or about beating the Joker. He grinned just in case, and the blade hesitated. Stiles raised a knowing eyebrow and grinned all the harder at that.

"Cute," he said with a laugh.

When she froze, eyes fixated on him, someone leapt at her. The instant he was free, Stiles scrambled to his feet. Derek fought the shifter only feet from him, and Peter fought the other one further away. No sign of the others, friend, foe, or undecided.

He could run, but how far would he get? Or he could fight, but that hadn't gone well so far. He growled at himself. Hesitating would only get him killed faster, so he drew another knife and ran at the thing fighting Derek. As he approached, Derek shoved her so she'd land directly on Stiles knife. He made sure to wedge the blade in firmly because it was past time for this creature to die, but he was ready for it when she spun to attack him instead of falling to the ground. His leap back began before she started moving. Maybe he'd have looked foolish if she died, but he preferred to plan for her living. Fortunately, it meant he could smile and stick his tongue at her when she missed him, which gave Derek time to come nearer and claw through her throat.

Stiles had never seen someone decapitated before. It was kind of cool.

Less cool was the stinging in his neck. It was localized, like a mosquito bite. He raised a hand to it and found a dart. Stiles had time to mutter, "Fuck," before the ground rushed at him and the world went dark.

**~.x.~**

"You told us to prioritize Joker." Those were words, which meant Stiles was either dreaming or awake. The voice sounded female, though he couldn't be sure without more information. 'Joker' meant him in the context of the arena and Haha, No. 'Prioritize' meant they were after him, and now they had him.

"I didn't say drop everyone else and run the instant you have him." Stiles recognized this voice as Haha, No himself. Well, fuck.

"Sir," a third person said from much closer to Stiles. This one sounded female too, and hesitant.

"Not now, Cole." Haha, No paused. "Well, Wight?"

"We were losing, sir." This was the first voice again, subdued but bitter. "I chose between taking Joker alone or returning empty-handed."

"And Bleeder?" Haha, No sounded stern, but there was something other than anger in it. Stiles got the feeling he didn't actually care about Bleeder.

"Beast killed her." Wight's voice broke. Stiles filed away a close connection between Wight and the shifter who hadn't bled. He also noted that Haha, No's sense of humor remained intact.

"Unfortunate."

"Sir, I really think—" Cole tried again but was cut off.

"Then try not to. What about Sparks?" Stiles was beginning to think he called all of his pets by the nicknames they gave each other.

"A, uh, human girl killed her."

"A human." Haha, No sounded unimpressed.

"Yes, sir." Wight sounded terrified. Human must not have been the right answer.

"If it helps," Stiles said, opening his eyes to find himself in a bright room surrounded by Haha, No's typical scary science machines. "I'm pretty sure the human she means is an accomplished werewolf hunter, not just some girl."

Haha, No glared, glanced to Stiles' right at the handsome Hispanic woman there, and then sighed. "I guess this is my own fault for being rude."

"Yeah, I mean, Cole was trying to get your attention for a while there." Stiles shook his head. "You always did have trouble with respecting others."

He tried to gauge the room and his chances of escape. It didn't look good. Haha, No was (probably) human. Cole's white coat made her look like a scientist, but the pants showing from beneath it were hot pink and skinny cut. Stiles thought she was human if he was lucky. Wight could be anything, though by her misery over Bleeder's death, Stiles let himself hope she was the shifter's human partner. Even if he freed himself and got past the three of them on his aching leg, Stiles would have to pick one of two doors. The odds weren't fifty-fifty since there was a chance all doors into this room were guarded. Haha, No's science room had always been guarded when Stiles entered it at the old facility.

"I guess we're alike in that sense." Haha, No smirked and waved a dismissal for Wight. He was wearing a metal nametag that said, "Haha, No," on it, and Stiles was pleased he hadn't changed names. When Cole moved to step away from Stiles' side, he saw that her nametag said, "Stop Asking." He guessed that he wasn't supposed to know her name.

"So how'd you get away," Stiles asked with a smile on his face. Well, not so much a smile as a mad grin.

"By being smarter than you and your friends." Haha, No gave a smile of his own.

Stiles hadn't expected a real answer. He'd just wanted to waste some time so he could watch Wight leave the room. She took the door on the left, and Stiles saw a man outside stand at attention as she passed. He was wearing a burgundy uniform. Those had been brown last time. They had been rather bland; Stiles approved of the change, except that he wanted to know what it meant. Was it a whim since Haha, No had lost his old soldiers, or was it something more?

"Do you want to know something funny, Stiles?" Haha, No sauntered forward, clipboard in hand. He pushed his glasses up his nose even though they hadn't fallen.

"No?"

"There's a sort of psychic signal bonded pairs sometimes send to each other when we separate them."

"Wow, I am so interested."

"You and Derek never bonded."

"Which you always gave me such a hard time for."

"But you're emitting that signal." He smiled like it was some kind of victory.

Stiles grinned, which gave him just enough time to realize he never bonded Derek because apparently he had a prior. Then he willed his mouth to take over before Haha, No noticed any hesitation. "I do my best." Maybe it was Scott. They were best friends. But if Scott had bonded to anyone, it was Allison. Based on the way she became his anchor and how they formed that secret knife plan without their captors catching on, Stiles was sure they _had _bonded. "Wouldn't I have been doing this all along though?"

"Who is it Stiles? You understand I need to know these things." Apparently changing the subject worked even worse on Haha, No than on Stiles' dad.

"Right. For science." What other wolves did he know? Derek was the problem—not the problem but the wrong guy, apparently. Isaac barely spoke to him. Boyd spoke to him less. Erica had gotten over him about the time she was bitten, and she wasn't able to bond anyone now. Jackson was a lizard bound to Matt and then Gerard, and then gone. Peter was evil then dead then creepy, and at no point half as important to Stiles as Scott or Derek. None of them were.

"That wasn't an answer."

"I don't have an answer." Because there wasn't one. "Maybe your sensors are fried."

"I didn't want to do this..." Haha, No set his finger against a switch, and Stiles knew what was coming even before his flipped it. "But you give me no choice."

The pain started at Stiles' temple, but he couldn't track it after that. It was everywhere. It was the world. Fire raced under his skin, and he screamed with it. Then he laughed until Haha, No turned the machine off.

"Fucking liar. We both know you wanted to do that," he spat.

Haha, No chuckled. "Got me."

He flipped the switch again.

**~.x.~**

Stiles wasn't the only one. He never saw the others, but he knew they were there. He saw their marks. Spots of blood Stiles hadn't shed that Haha, No missed when they cleaned. Extra wear on the straps holding Stiles' arms to the chair. A small dent where someone had kicked the bottom panel on the readout machine. Haha, No may have had some of his experiments working for him, but there were others, captives like Stiles, still being totured.

He wondered if they fought here. He spent his days in the lab and his nights—he called them nights because he tried to sleep, not because he knew the time—alone in what looked like a closet except for the massive lock and bolt on the door. There was a bucket for waste, no fancy toilet like last time. And no strong, warm werewolf to keep him company. It wasn't cold, but Stiles shivered where he lay on the floor against the wall. He had to curl up on his side to fit, and if he wasn't careful, he'd knock over his shit bucket. At least they emptied it daily. Or he thought it was daily. Stiles hadn't seen natural light since coming here. It threw off his sense of time almost as much as the obviously irregular sleep schedule Haha, No set for him.

The door opened. It was a long process. First a curt order and the jangle of keys. There was the click of a lock, then the soldiers grunting as they slid the heavy bar out of the way. The keys again, and another lock, and finally the door handle turned. The bottom of the door scratched at the floor a little as it opened.

Light poured over Stiles. He squinted against it as burgundy-clad soldier-types lifted him to his feet by his shirt. It was the same shirt he'd been brought here in. No nice prison garb for solo-Stiles. No showers either. But also no death matches. That was a plus. Stiles staggered as the soldiers pushed him down the hall. His leg, wounded before he came here and only made worse by Haha, No's brand of fun, throbbed. He stumbled and caught himself on his good leg.

Someone kicked him in the back of his knees, and Stiles crashed to the ground. He'd been the strong one last time, but there was no chance for him to fight here. Part of him hoped Haha, No was right, that Stiles was bound to one of the werewolves in Beacon Hills and constantly sent out a distress signal. If it was true, it would lead his friends to him. They would save him like last time.

Last time. They told him they tracked kidnapped werewolves, not that one of them could sense his location. They would kill Haha, No this time, but that was a plan for another day. Today he had to make his captors think he was weak.

Stiles coughed. He remembered the way his lungs labored during his time at the arena and mimicked it. He pushed himself up, let his leg give out again, and made a show of forcing himself slowly to his feet past the pain. Determined not to give in, but too weak to fight anymore. Stiles thought it was the perfect act, and the soldier-types' sniggering sounded like roaring applause.

_Sorry, guys, no encore tonight, _Stiles thought as he limped down the hall ahead of the soldiers. They led him by different paths, but this complex was less labyrinthine than the old one. He knew the ways, just not which one they would take today.

Left, right, and the third left, apparently. That was the longer way. He glanced at the soldier leading the way and recognized her by the scar across her eye. She was one of the cruel ones, and probably the one who had kicked Stiles. As the walk went on, Stiles limped worse. He thought she'd like that.

They took a wrong turn but opened a door into the right room. Stiles stumbled over the threshold. He knew exactly where they'd been, and this couldn't be the room. But it was. It had the same machines, the same windowless walls, the same doors, and the same mad scientist grinning from ear to ear. Cole was there too, standing beside the readout machine in heels of all things. The metallic silver of them matched the smooth panel at the machine's bottom almost perfectly. Stiles wondered if she'd dressed to match intentionally and wouldn't put it past her.

Stiles did a double take. There was a dent on that panel, but there wasn't. The room wasn't here, but it was. He laughed. They had more than one. This was part of their act to disorient him.

"Want to share the joke with the class?" Haha, No asked almost politely. Or it might have been if he didn't motion for the guard to knock Stiles to the floor.

Stiles grunted, made a point to laugh harder, and refused to talk.

Haha, No sighed and told his men to put Stiles in the chair. The straps were more worn on this one than the other, assuming there was only one other. Stiles thought this was the first time he hadn't gone to the other room, but what if this was only the first time he'd noticed?

"I'm glad you're in such a good mood today." The tone of his voice and the smile on Haha, No's face agreed, but in a malicious way, not a pleasant one. "Because I thought we'd try something new."

Cole approached with a syringe. It was full. Stiles struggled against his bonds even though the straps weren't nearly worn enough to rip. He survived because he was smart, but full syringes were for drugging people. Drugs would eliminate Stiles' only weapon. He screamed and writhed and pulled his inner elbow as far as he could from Cole and her needle. Haha, No activated his beloved pain chair, but Stiles almost welcomed it. He couldn't thrash in pain and stay still enough for an injection at the same time.

"Come on, Joker, be a good boy," Haha, No said as he turned off the machine. Stiles knew that they could just inject him once he was unconscious or put it in the water or bread they gave him occasionally. It would be easy to drug him without his knowing, so why fight? Then another question came to him: why drug him this way?

So much of his treatment was based on misdirection. This would be too. Or it wouldn't be because he'd expect it. Or...

Stiles laughed and let Cole find a vein on the inside of his elbow. This way was easier than the others, and if the drug was strong enough, he wouldn't remember anyway. They were drugging him so obviously because it didn't matter. Stiles laughed harder. It had become a defense mechanism, and he couldn't have stopped now if he wanted to. Cole looked uncomfortable. Haha, No wore a straight face for the first time since Stiles met him.

"Your name is Joker now," he said, "And you're too dangerous to be let free."

He laughed and spat at the doctor's face.

**~.x.~**

They told him lies. Actually, they told him a lot of things, and Joker could rarely distinguish between true phrases and false. But he knew there was false in there somewhere. Sometimes he remembered things past the fog and wrong turns of his mind. They told him he hurt people, innocent people and guilty people, and that felt right. They told him he did it because his brain was unbalanced, and that felt backward. His mind felt like a machine stuffed full of cotton.

Joker traced a finger along the edge of his cot as someone walked by his door. He heard the footsteps approach and pass without slowing. The lights of his room were off so he could see the shadow pass under the door. They should have given him a window; he wanted to _see. _

They told him surrendering control was important, that part of what drove him to kill was his desire for control. He told them to their faces that was a lie, so they drugged him and put him back in his room until he was in a better mood. Losing control was different from relinquishing it. Joker had tried to tell them that, but all that came out was weak laughter. It scared them when he laughed.

Footsteps echoed through the hall again, this time slowing in front of his door. It was time. Joker had known it was coming because he could sort of think again. They always saved sessions with the doctors for when his drugs weakened. Then they doped him up again and dropped him in his room.

There were other patients or criminals or prisoners or whatever he was, but Joker never saw them. He saw their blood on the doctor's cruel machines, and he saw their struggles in the wear on the straps that bound him to those machines. Joker thought they kept him separated because he was dangerous, and that made him smile, though it wasn't so much a smile as a dark thing that ate his face. He'd seen it reflected on metal once in the doctor's lab. That was the day he understood why they called him Joker.

The door opened. An arm reached into the room, sliding along the wall to the side to find the light switch. Joker was half-blinded by the light from the hall, but he pounced anyway, ramming himself into the man in the doorway. It was a guard, not a doctor, so Joker got stomped to the ground and threatened for his efforts. Fighting back felt good anyway, so he chuckled. One of the other guards muttered something unkind, so Joker spun himself against the floor to ram his foot into the guard's ankle. Then Joker wasn't the only one on the ground. He climbed on top of the guard and smashed his head against the tiled floor. He hoped it stained red.

A boot took Joker in the face, and the red on the floor was his own bloody spit. They dragged him to his feet, trained a pistol on him, and pulled him to the doctor.

It was the man today. Joker preferred the man because the woman was always so solemn with him. She wanted to "help" him, but the man only wanted to study him. She told him to call her Jenn, but the man told Joker to call him nothing. He even wore a nametag that refused to admit his name. Joker liked that, so he called the man Haha, No instead of nothing. It felt familiar, and that made him like it more.

"Been a bad boy today?" Haha, No asked, gesturing toward the chair. There were other places they could have taken him. The one where he hanged from his wrists or ankles depending on the doctor's mood, the one where he lay on his back with his head cradled into a device that read his neural patterns, the one that was actually just a couch, and even the one that encased him fully in metal except for tiny air vents near his feet. The chair was the one that made him think of electroshock therapy. Joker doubted any of them were legal, except maybe the couch, and that made him doubt he was here as punishment for any crime.

Joker shrugged as the guards tightened his restraints and affixed the tiny needles that connected him to the large paneled machine beside the chair. there was a dent in the metal of the bottom panel that Joker remembered but also didn't.

"Do you know where you are?" Haha, No asked.

"The room of very painful science."

"Do you know who you are?"

"I'd rather know who you are. Have you even been to medical school?"

"Do you know why you're here?"

"Because the chair is your favorite. Jenn prefers the couch of all things."

"And which is your favorite?"

Joker grinned.

"They tell me you aren't eating, that you claim you're being poisoned."

Joker didn't remember that, but it sounded right. He shrugged.

"We can only help you if you let us."

"Jenn says that too. It's how I know all I have to do is resist."

Haha, No flipped the switch. Joker screamed and struggled against his bonds, but he laughed too. The switch was punishment. Punishment meant he'd done something wrong, and that meant he was still resisting. Pain was victory.

Now if only he could remember what he was fighting against.

Joker continued twitching after the pain stopped. Adrenaline faded slowly and took his air with it. That meant something, but Joker couldn't remember what. He could only gasp and struggle and know he was dying, that he would never remember who he was or why he was here, and he would never kill Haha, No. The fit faded like his adrenaline, slowly and taking him with it. He was wrung out. Haha, No knew it.

Joker grinned and spat blood onto the floor.

Pain only hurt his body. His body was the weakest of his weapons, and he could afford to sacrifice it to protect his mind.

**~.x.~**

Jenn shared the couch with Joker. The guards cuffed his hands behind his back so he couldn't hurt her. She wore different clothes from last time, but her earrings and makeup were the same. She kept referencing "yesterday's" session, but Joker thought that was one of her lies. She would have removed her makeup and showered if a whole day had passed. She was meticulous, clean, and fashionable. And she was screwing with his sense of time. He almost said he didn't understand why they worked so hard to deceive him if they were trying to help him, but that was a lie. He knew they weren't trying to help.

"Do you know this man?" Jenn held up a picture. It was a handsome man, maybe a few years older than Joker. He wore a leather jacket and a layer of stubble like they could defend him against the world. His eyes were closed and would have been facing away from the camera even if he hadn't blinked. He looked familiar.

Joker shrugged. It helped hide the motion as he slipped a pin he'd taken from Jenn's hair out of his sleeve. He couldn't guess at how long he'd had it or why no one found it.

"He's filed a request to see you."

"I don't get visitors." Whoever this guy was, Joker wanted him far away from Haha, No and Jenn. He thought maybe they had been friends, but Joker wasn't sure if he'd ever had friends.

"We wanted to gauge your reaction. We think seeing him might help you."

"I don't want to see him."

Jenn sighed like he was being difficult, like she could blame him after they beat him and tortured him and kept him in chains and claimed it was for his own good.

"You're not the first we've helped," she said, "But your treatment needs a jumpstart. Don't you want to be better? To remember?"

Of course he wanted to remember. "Not if it means seeing him."

"What did you remember that is scaring you so much? You two were close, and no doubt had fights sometimes, but fights don't define a relationship."

Okay, unless he'd misunderstood Jenn entirely, Joker had a boyfriend. That was new. He remembered seeing the man leaned against the barred door of a cell, fists gripping the bars. Another flash of memory showed the man's eyes glowing red.

"He's a werewolf," Joker said, "How does that not define a relationship?"

"Not all werewolves are bad people." Joker thought that was true. "And it's not like you're a model human." Also true.

"Not my fault their scales are wrong." He shrugged, and the clanking of his cuffs disguised the click as they unlocked. There was no guard at his back for the moment. Now all he needed was an opening.

The door opened as if on command, and Jenn spun toward it. So did the guards. No one interrupted Joker's sessions. A pair of guards dragged a woman through the open door. Her dark hair was wild, and her clothes were filthy rags, nothing like the simple white shirt and pants Joker wore. When she gnashed her teeth, he saw that they were fangs. He knew her. Not her name, but her face and her rage. She'd been in a cell across from him. She'd been in a fight in a pit below him. She'd been in battle beside him, beside the man in the photograph.

"What are you doing?" Jenn screamed.

Joker was on his feet the moment the door opened, and he had almost reached the werewolf before he recognized her. She was an ally, the only one he had. Instead of charging past, Joker barreled into one of the guards holding her. She didn't hesitate, and Joker blessed her for that as she swung her newly freed arm to claw at her other guard's face. Then she turned and pushed Joker, and they ran. Once Joker's leg had been half useless, but it worked now. That made him wonder how long he'd been here.

Joker was in the lead and part of his brain told him it knew the way even though he didn't know his own name. His memory only led him to a closet—a closet they used to keep him in, he remembered as they ran past. They didn't slow even though he didn't know the way anymore.

An alarm blared through the building. The werewolf kept growling, and Joker thought the alarm bothered her even more than it did him. It made his head feel full of something other than smoke, so maybe it wasn't all bad. A pair of guards turned the corner in front of them and raised their guns. Joker dropped to the ground and rolled, hoping the werewolf had sense enough to do the same. When she leapt over his head straight into the guards, he thought maybe her plan worked too. She would heal.

Joker shouted and disarmed the second guard while the werewolf still had her back to the first. When she turned to find Joker putting a bullet through the man's face, she nodded her acknowledgement. The gunshots would draw others to them, but Joker grabbed the other guard's gun and ammo before running off behind the werewolf.

He'd done this before, run through halls killing and disarming its guards. There had been more of them then. Derek—that was his name, Derek—had been there too. The mental fog retreated slowly as Joker and the werewolf charged through the halls.

"We're not getting anywhere," Joker screamed as a new set of guards shot at them.

"What do you expect me to do?" The werewolf crouched, preparing to leap despite the bullet wounds already covering her body. She fought on pure will at this point. Joker thought that was all she'd had for a long time.

"Kill some more bastards and find a staircase. The lack of windows means we're likely below ground." Joker reloaded his gun and prepared to cover the werewolf as she attacked.

"They'll have the stairs and elevators guarded then."

"So? They have the halls guarded too. It just means more people we get to kill." He grinned.

The werewolf shook her head and took a deep breath. "I never believed what they said about you." She let the breath out. "Silly me." Then she charged, and Joker fired, and he thought his aim was better than the last time they fought like this, but he couldn't remember why.

A werewolf was always a great distraction. With everyone shooting at her, Joker was free to leave cover, walk toward the guards, and smash the butt of his gun against the face of the first one he reached until his skull caved in. Then Joker took the dead guard's ammo, reloaded his gun, and fired from short range at those guards not blocked by the werewolf. She killed the others easily with his help, and they stood surrounded by corpses in burgundy uniforms after only moments. Efficient. Joker got the feeling he was used to ending fights quickly.

"Which way now?" The werewolf glanced down the split hallway, but both ways looked the same.

Joker shrugged. "Two Face was the one with the coin to flip, so maybe we go toward heavy resistance. Like you said, they'll guard the stairs."

The werewolf nodded. "There are more of them this way," she gestured to the right, and Joker wondered if she knew by sound or scent or something else.

They ran some more, killed some more, and felt completely lost even more than before. Finally Joker grabbed a guard before the werewolf could kill her and rammed her against a wall with a gun to her face. "You want to lead me out?" he asked with a grin.

"I'll never—" Joker shot her and grabbed the next guard.

"You want to lead me out?" he asked again, voice calm, face serene.

The guard swallowed and nodded.

"Kill the others," Joker said like he could give orders to the werewolf. She obeyed readily enough. It was important to seem scarier than he was, Joker knew. It was all about scaring people so bad they made themselves weak.

The memories grew stronger as the drug faded in his system, but Joker didn't have time to examine them. Instead, he shoved the guard away from the wall, gripped him by his tightly-buttoned burgundy jacket, and told him sweetly to lead the way as he pressed the still-warm barrel of his gun against the back of the guard's neck. The guard seemed meek enough, but he would be a liability as much as a meat shield if they ran into anyone else. Joker kept a close eye on the guard's hands, and the werewolf seemed to be watching him closely too.

"How many exits are there?" Joker asked the guard. He kept his voice soft.

"Just one."

Joker glanced to the werewolf, and she nodded. The guard was telling the truth.

"What will be waiting for us there?"

"Enough soldiers and freaks to kill even you."

The werewolf nodded again.

"I take it 'soldiers' are human and 'freaks' are supernatural."

"No." He almost shook his head, almost turned to look back at Joker, aborted both acts and marched forward. "You're a freak too."

Joker laughed. He couldn't deny it. The werewolf nodded with a smirk.

"You were there when I was captured," he realized as he watched the wolf. "I thought I was the only one they got."

She shook her head. "I didn't see the ones inside, but they got you, me, and Derek. The older wolf ran away." She sneered.

"Where is Derek?" Stiles asked.

Stiles? That was a funny name, but it fit.

"I don't—" The soldier cut himself off. A glance at the werewolf was enough to tell Stiles that the guard had been prepared to lie.

"Good. Take me to him." He remembered pieces of an overheard conversation from when he'd first woken, but now he thought it was staged. How much had been lies? How much truth?

The soldier turned them off their current path. "This will just take you back to the laboratories."

Right back where they'd started. Stiles had been so close to Derek and never known. He thought if they'd managed to form the bond Haha, No wanted them to at the old facility, he would have known. He would have found Derek. He would have _remembered _Derek.

"Then walk faster," Stiles said with a grin.

The soldier led them to the other lab, not the one Jenn and Stiles had been in earlier. Was there a third that the werewolf beside him should have been led to? Was there a scheduling error? It didn't seem like Haha, No to make mistakes. He could have given too much responsibility to Jenn Cole, but he seemed like the sort of mad scientist to stay in control at all times.

Not all times. He'd refused messages before when with Stiles, much like he'd spoken over Cole in the first conversation Stiles either did or didn't overhear by accident. Stiles shook his head. Either Haha, no screwed up, or this was a trap. Either way, his only option was to find Derek. He couldn't leave him behind.

And why hadn't the werewolf said something sooner?

They opened the door. The room was packed, of course. Haha, No stood at the center of a small army of soldiers and shifters. Every weapon aimed at the door. Stiles' captive soldier froze, and Stiles kicked him forward. He landed on hands and knees, leaving Stiles undefended in the doorway. No one fired.

Derek was in the chair with needles suctioned to his temples, neck, and chest. Blood trailed from his nostrils and ears. His fingers were shaped into claws, but the chair's restraints held him. His eyes glowed when he saw Stiles. His lips formed a shape that looked like, "Run," but Stiles stepped into the room.

"Hey, kids," he said with a jolly wave. Well, with the horrible grin he plastered on, the wave probably seemed more crazed than anything. Every eye in the room followed him.

Haha, No gave Stiles his own grin. "I thought you'd find us sooner."

"No bond, remember?" Stiles shrugged.

"Ah, yes, my greatest failures."

"As in the failures who are so frickin' awesome it's unbelievable or the ones you failed the most spectacularly on?" Every one of Haha, No's men stayed at the ready. Even if one flinched a little as he neared, there were others. Stiles couldn't intimidate them all into making a mistake at the same moment.

"A bit of both. At least my little Bloodhound did her job." He smiled at the werewolf behind Stiles.

"I didn't do anything." She nearly shrieked it, and she began shaking. Her hands raised, clenched into fists around her wild hair. "I didn't. I was escaping. I..." That was... not the response of the emotionally or mentally stable.

"When did she say she and Derek were captured?" It was a lie. Stiles knew before he answered that she and Derek had come later, that Haha, No tortured and drugged her and made her half believe she and Derek had been here as long as Stiles.

"They came later," he said, hoping he knew enough about Derek and this werewolf to guess how they'd have been caught together. "They came after me but couldn't save me."

"Someone's been a naughty girl after all."

She flinched and growled. Stiles felt sorry for her. She was so broken, but not too broken to fight, he remembered. He could still use her.

"I still think you're terrible with names," Derek muttered. "The only good ones are the ones you stole." His voice was brittle, but Stiles hoped Derek was stronger than he looked if he could mock his captor. "Her name is Cat. Why would you give a dog name to someone called Cat?"

"She's a werewolf. I think that cancels the feline." Haha, No kept his eyes on Stiles as he answered Derek. It could have been an opening if he were just a little less careful.

Derek shrugged like, _At least I tried._

"What was the point of this little exercise?" Stiles asked. If he could buy time, he could find a way out. And the lack of bullets already in his chest implied Haha, No wanted to talk anyway.

"Just trying out various ways to sever your old bond and create a new one with your Beast."

"I don't have an old bond."

"Of course you do, but a weak one. It should be easier than this to break, so a flexible one."

"Why not capture my supposed bond-mate and keep us together instead of me and Derek?"

"Because you want him." He clearly meant Derek.

He did. He wanted a direct link to Derek, the kind of link Scott and Allison had. "And you care so much about my feelings."

"Don't be naive, Joker."

Haha, No was manipulating him. He knew how Derek and Stiles interacted, but not what would happen if he introduced another werewolf. It made sense to keep his variables constant, but it also made sense to kill whoever was in the way, or to kill Stiles and start with someone new altogether.

"What's so special about me?"

"You're the best." He shrugged like it was obvious. "Wight says you nearly killed Bleeder and made the opening for Beast to finish her, and she thinks you had something to do with Frankie's death too."

"If you tell me Frankie is the twisted shifter who came to town, I am going to vomit over how exactly not clever you are."

"See," Derek said. "Told you."

"It's short for Frankenstein," Haha, No said.

"Yeah, I got that." Stiles crossed his arms. The soldiers could only stay fully alert for so long. Someone would slip eventually. But not all of them, not at the same time. He needed a way to get to Derek.

"Is it because Frankenstein is actually the doctor and not the monster because I know that."

"No, it's because the joke is bad."

"Your joke is no better, and you know it."

"No need to get defensive." Stiles raised his palms out toward Haha, No and ruined the placating gesture with a laugh.

"You're right. Enough stalling." Haha, No smiled. "You have a choice. You can kill Derek or you can break the bond you have now."

"How can I break a bond I don't have?"

"You have it."

"Then a bond I'm not aware of?"

"I suggest you figure it out quickly. I thought you would do it in order to find him, but that was clearly wishful thinking."

"The only werewolf I was close to is obviously in full-out magical romantic bond with his girlfriend."

"It only takes a moment for the bond to form. It can be love, trust, or respect. You must have had a moment with a werewolf. Just remember it, and then you can deny its importance and sever it."

"And what happens if I do?" Not freedom, Stiles knew that much.

"Well, Derek gets to live, we don't have to force you to help us capture anyone else, and you two can share a room again."

"That is a shit bargain."

"Really? I thought Derek's life was important." He reached over casually and flipped the switch that sent pain through the chair. Derek screamed and thrashed. Stiles rushed forward, but the soldiers held him back. He screamed with Derek until Haha, No turned the machine off. "Funny that someone who prides himself so much on his intellect would show weakness so easily. We both know Derek is your breaking point, and I'm giving you a chance to save him."

Stiles growled. Then he yelled, and then he sagged against the guards holding him back so they also held him up. A moment. It only took a moment. Of love, trust, or respect. It wasn't love. He hadn't fallen for any wolves or vice versa. They had worked together to fight Jackson when he was the kanima, but he'd had closer scrapes with Derek than any of his betas. If anything in Stiles' life before the arena was bond-making material, it was the two hours he spent literally saving Derek's life in the school pool.

Maybe that meant it happened before Jackson was bitten, when they were still fighting Peter. The only wolves he knew at that point had been Scott and Derek though. And Peter. Stiles remembered Peter raising Stiles' wrist to his mouth as his fangs lengthened. Only a moment. A moment when Peter literally asked Stiles to become part of his family and respected his choice enough to leave him alive and human when he said no. Respect. A moment.

Peter fucking Hale.

They'd spent a lot of time together recently, and maybe that was the bond. Stiles had thought it was because Peter cared too little to be a controlling jerk like everyone else he knew, or maybe because Peter had gotten Frankie and her partner for his own lair of creepiness. Stiles spent more time hanging out uselessly than studying their bodies though. He'd just wanted to be near someone—to be near Peter. And Peter had let him.

He groaned. He didn't need to be supernaturally bound to Peter Hale. They weren't even friends, or not good ones. Shouldn't the bond have been severed when Peter died? Maybe it reformed along with him. Stiles found the link now that he knew where to look, felt it, felt Peter through it. Peter wasn't going to rescue Stiles; he cared too much about saving his own skin. Derek had come after Stiles, had sacrificed everything for just a small chance at reaching him. Stiles knew which Hale was worth his time, and it wasn't Peter. The bond shattered and fell away.

A gate inside Stiles opened and an ocean roared through it. The ocean was Derek. Love, trust, and respect. Stiles wondered how long that had been there, if Derek had been reaching for him this whole time, ramming himself against a wall built from his uncle's idea that Stiles might make a good wolf. Stiles choked on Derek, on his want, fear, and pain.

"Congratulations," Haha, No said. "I now pronounce you man and wolf."


	3. Bonding

**Part Three: Bonding**

Stiles woke in darkness. Someone had clubbed him over the head, but that was all he remembered after bonding with Derek.

Derek.

He lay behind Stiles with his arm draped over him, sleeping. He breathed in a steady rhythm, and Stiles felt Derek's heart beating against his back. The warmth of his body felt like safety even though Stiles knew Haha, No still had them, probably had them more securely than before. As much as being with Derek seemed like a good thing, it happened only because Haha, No ordered it.

Derek's breath tickled the back of Stiles neck. He wanted to turn around and kiss Derek until he woke and then fuck him until he slept again. Not the best impulse for escape, though tempting for dealing with the stress of imprisonment. Stiles slipped out from under Derek's arm and off the bed. He stepped forward carefully in the darkness until he reached a wall. He ran his hands over it until he touched a door, and on the other side of the door, he found a light switch.

The room was small. The bed was sized to fit one, but he and Derek often slept close enough it wouldn't matter. Had often. In the cells at the arena. Not now. Stiles scrubbed his hands against his eyes. He reverted to thinking about that place in the present too easily and too often. They escaped. Maybe they were captured again, but this was a different time and a different place. They had been free; they had been different. They had been separated.

Stiles licked his lips. Derek had wanted to be away from Stiles, and he doubted that was even possible with the bond. Derek shifted, close to waking, and Stiles tried to feel less restless so his emotions wouldn't bleed over.

If their opponents had been able to read each other this clearly, they should have worked better together, should have beaten Derek and Stiles. Stiles remembered that he and Derek read each other too, just with more mundane techniques. They accomplished what every other pair did; they just fought harder for it. The thought almost made Stiles proud except that he would rather never have killed.

Derek shifted again and opened his eyes. He reached his arm forward, and Stiles felt him calling him over through the bond. Stiles climbed back into the bed and into Derek's arms. They kissed and cuddled, and it was horrible. Stiles wanted every moment of it, and he hated that Haha, No was behind it.

"We'll kill him," Derek promised.

"I don't think we can."

"You couldn't kill Frankie either." He left silent that Stiles had anyway.

"Are you..." Stiles hesitated, licked his lips, and took in a slow breath to calm himself. "Are you okay with this?" He picked at the bond mentally so Derek would know what he meant.

"Yes." He kissed Stiles like it was that simple.

"You had asked for time away from me, and this is... the opposite of that."

"I know." Derek traced his knuckles along Stiles' jaw and stared at him like he was the whole world. It made Stiles squirm, and Derek stopped. He sighed and sat up, rubbing his hands over his face. "You slipped so easily back into who that place made you. I was afraid I would too, and I... I never want to be him again, Stiles."

"You weren't so bad."

Derek raised his eyebrows, and Stiles felt his incredulity. "I..." He hesitated this time, and Stiles knew then that Derek hadn't shared everything with him, that he was about to hear a new part of Derek's story. He had thought he knew Derek almost as well as himself and reminded himself that secrets weren't betrayal... no matter how close they had been once. "I made goals for myself, things to keep me going. At first it was staying alive, but we weren't killing the ones who put us there. We killed people exactly like us, prisoners with just as much right to life. I convinced myself protecting you was less selfish to make killing them seem okay." Stiles knew all this, but that only increased the tension in his chest. It meant more was coming. "I focused my world on you, and eventually you became the goal yourself. Then they moved us to the View, and the only time I could be close to you was right before and after a fight. I looked forward to those moments. I lived for the chance to touch you even briefly, and... the fight was with you too. In the adrenaline, I could almost feel you, and I could see you do these amazing things, violent but amazing. So, I started looking forward to the fights too, until eventually I started to like them." His eyes didn't meet Stiles'. "I don't want to enjoy slaughter," he said as his hands shook. "I don't want to like what he makes of me."

Stiles pulled Derek forward by his shirt and held him. "You shouldn't have told me," he whispered. "They're probably listening."

"I don't care. I don't want you to think I hate you."

"I don't," Stiles promised. He pressed his lips to Derek's and pulled him closer so their bodies rested together along the length of the bed. "I don't."

**~.x.~**

Haha, No had redecorated. The lab held two chairs now, back-to-back. The readout panels were on the same side, probably so they could be viewed together. One had a dented base panel, and the other was smooth. Stiles and Derek each occupied one of the chairs. They could not see each other, but Stiles saw Haha, No grinning at his readings from the corner of his eye.

"I knew you would be great." He beamed. "We thought you were bound before we got you, and that was a little bad luck, but we can make up for lost time now."

"You never said what we're helping with," Derek grunted. He'd started talking more after the binding. A lot of it was backtalk and sass.

"Science. The bond. What else do you want?"

"It's impressive how you avoided outright lies, but I meant the endgame."

"We know you're making weird shifter hybrids, and we know you're using the bond to manipulate them, but, honestly, you're not being very forthright with us at all." Stiles shook his head even though it felt weird when the suction cups pulled at his skin as he moved.

Haha, No laughed. "The endgame is power. The secret past is a woman you already killed."

"So, what, you found a kanima and decided to use all your evil science brain to find new ways to use her?"

"Close enough."

"That's not close at all, and we all know it," Derek said.

"Honestly, it's like I'm not even in charge." He flipped the switch, and Derek screamed.

"Stop!" Stiles cried. "Leave him alone!" He pulled at the straps binding him to the chair, but they held. When Haha, No turned off the chair, Stiles even spared a thought to wonder what the straps were made of that they could hold a desperate werewolf but still show wear.

"You're test subjects. You don't have to understand the tests for them to work."

"We're also people, and that makes us huge gossips," Stiles said with a grin. It felt thin.

"You want to know something interesting?" It wasn't going to be what he wanted; Stiles could already tell. "You two have only recently bonded, but already it's a link of incredible strength. You can literally feel each other." He studied his readings as he spoke, but Stiles had never learned to understand them. "But you also have impressive control. Usually you get one or the other: powerful bonds that consume you, or weak bonds that work for you. See, I said you were special, didn't I?" He grinned.

"What usually influences the bond?" Derek asked. Stiles was surprised but immediately felt guilty for it. Just because Derek usually preferred silence didn't make him less intelligent than Stiles or less able to push Haha, No.

"The funny thing is it has very little to do with your feelings for each other."

"That doesn't really answer the question," Stiles pointed out.

"I'm noticing a pattern there actually," Derek added.

Haha, No rolled his eyes, but he still looked pleased. Stiles knew he wanted to share. Haha, No relished in showing off; he had even gone so far as to _quiz _Stiles on what he had learned in the arena. So he wanted to tell them but wanted them to work for it first.

"If it's not our feelings," Stiles said, hoping he figured right that Haha, No would want him to guess, "Then why are feelings necessary to create the bond at all? Are they just a springboard that his wolfy powers use to get things started?"

"Most of your captives are betas or omegas," Derek noted. "And most have been bitten, not born."

"And most bonded before you took them." That was a shot in the dark, but Haha, No didn't deny it. Either everything they'd said so far was off, or this was right too. Or he had decided not to respond until they made a proper guess. Or a hundred other things. Stiles hated head games.

"It's because of the other bond," Derek said. "It only takes a moment, so most partners bond too soon, before the wolf has enough control or before the partnership is strong."

"An interesting theory." Haha, No smirked.

"I don't think the others knew we weren't bound the same as they were," Stiles said. "The ones who knew about the bond."

"Cat thought we were linked stronger than most pairs. She was shocked when I told her I couldn't sense my way to Stiles."

"Well, I couldn't afford to give her too much information, after all." Haha, No shrugged.

"My old bond wasn't like this one," Stiles said. "Is that because of Derek or me?"

"It's cute that you're trying so hard," Haha, No said. "Less cute that you're taking so long."

"I think I was trying to form the bond for a long time, but I only noticed the pressure when it released."

Stiles nodded even though Derek couldn't see. "I only felt it once the other bond was gone, but it was incredible."

"You still haven't mentioned who this other bond was with," Haha, No noted. Stiles had told Derek it was the other wolf he knew before Jackson was bitten, but he had avoided saying Peter's name.

"Trust me," Derek said. "You don't want to know." He sent Stiles the telepathic equivalent of making a face like he'd just eaten a sour pickle.

"Hey!" Stiles pouted. He felt Derek's amusement and knew he was teasing, but there was truth behind the jest. Between Derek and Stiles the bond was passion and desperation. Even though it had been different between Stiles and Peter, Derek associated his own romantic feelings with sharing a bond. And that made it creepy.

Stiles and Derek screamed together as Haha, No activated the chairs. The straps held, but Derek's chair beat against the floor as he struggled with enough forced to move and lift it. Stiles felt the moment when Derek wolfed out. It was an onrush and outburst of power, but Stiles sensed more waiting beyond it.

"Come on!" Stiles shouted when the pain faded. "All of those were factors. Why punish us for being right?"

"Factors," Haha, No repeated. "Sure, they were factors, but you've missed the most important part."

Stiles prepared to shout, maybe swear a few times and mock Haha, No's face or jokes, but Derek beat him to the punch. "You're talking about yourself." Derek chuckled. It was eerie, and Stiles wondered if this was how people felt when _he_ laughed. "You want credit for what you've done to us."

Of course that was what he wanted. Stiles scowled before remembering to grin. What was it Lydia liked to say? _Never frown. Someone could be falling in love with your smile._ She'd avoided saying it around Stiles after seeing his Joker grins.

Haha, No looked too smug. Stiles thought it was time for the kind of risk that might, if he was lucky, make it look like he knew much more than he did. "So are we on schedule?"

"What?" Haha, No raised an eyebrow, but he still looked amused.

"Surely you have a time table on how we're supposed to be progressing. Where do we stand on it?"

"A bit behind, actually. And don't call me Shirley."

Stiles had hoped Haha, No would give more away than that. Why bother hiding information from someone who had figured it out, after all. He thought the 'schedule' carried them to becoming Haha, No's minions like the pairs he sent to Beacon Hills, but he knew not all of Haha, No's experiments went that way. Most just died.

Haha. No tapped the panels. "You react as predicted to torture, both together and separately."

"So you finally admit it's torture," Stiles cut in.

"The same is true of your time alone together, though I had bet on more frequent sexual relations, to be honest. Is it because you miss your audience because I could arrange one."

"What?" Stiles hoped his face didn't look as dumb as it felt.

"No," Derek said, apparently a little less lost. And more offended. Really? He was surprised enough to be offended? Then again, he'd spent less time with Haha, No than Stiles had.

"But what few readings I could gather from Joker's old bond showed that he should be able to create obedience like that of the kanima bond."

"Dude, if I could 'create obedience,' we would have had about a zillion problems all solved for us. Trust me."

"You weren't conscious of it, so you didn't use it. My point is, I'm not seeing any of that here." He tapped his chin and studied the panels intently.

"Maybe because I don't need to control Derek? We're sort of in this together, you know?"

"Yes, yes, it's you against the world with the role of planet earth filled by yours truly." He gestured to himself. "Not everyone can form a bond with a kanima. It takes a special kind of person, combined with the sort of self-obsessed, righteous fury that drives someone to kill out of vengeance."

"I don't think I have any righteous fury," Stiles said.

Derek disagreed. He didn't say anything, but Stiles felt it.

"Oh, good, I can tell when you're communicating. What did he say?"

"What?" Stiles asked.

"How?" Derek demanded.

"Right here." Haha, No tapped a line that had mellowed now but showed a recent spike in its history. Stiles noticed another spike not long back and suspected it corresponded to when he'd noticed Derek's emotions last.

"I thought my friend was dying," Stiles said. "When it happened before. I thought she'd been murdered." He thought this was less dangerous than letting Haha, No study the bond further and hoped he was right.

Derek thought it was stupid of him to bond with Peter to make Peter kill Peter.

Haha, No's panel spiked again.

"Are you trying to say you didn't want to kill me for all my wrongs when you and Derek were bound?"

"Um." Stiles felt like he was getting dumber the longer this conversation dragged on. "Well, yeah, but I was a little more focused on saving Derek?"

"You're much less intimidating when you can't kill things. Has anyone ever told you that?"

"I have," Derek grunted.

"Shut up, both of you."

"Rude," Haha, No said. Then he flipped the switches and left them activated until Stiles couldn't have formed cohesive sentences if he wanted to.

**~.x.~**

The tile floor bruised Stiles' knees. Derek was at his side, helping him stand, almost before Stiles registered that they'd been thrown to the floor and left. They were in a bathroom. Well, a shower room. There were showerheads on the walls, drains in the floor, and a bench by the door with towels and clothes neatly folded atop it. Derek was already imagining the things he could do to Stiles in the shower. Stiles could almost see it in his mind, but even if he hadn't, Derek wasn't exactly subtle when turned on. Stiles gestured to the cameras posted high up on the walls, but Derek only shrugged and tugged at his shirt until Stiles grinned and let him pull it off.

When Derek's hand slipped past the waistband of his ragged jeans, Stiles gasped and pulled back. Once before they'd been all over each other in a shower, and the alpha kanima interrupted them. Stiles realized what could look like leather straps but be strong enough to hold back a werewolf. Kanima skin. Also known as boner killer.

"That thing you do where you think too much," Derek said. "Stop it."

"You know I can't help it. Besides, I sort of, uh..." Stiles tried to think _escape_ at Derek.

Derek rolled his eyes. "Fine. Wash my back." He stripped without ceremony and turned on the water at the third shower in as though that was what people did when agreeing not to have sex just now.

Stiles groaned as he shucked his pants and joined Derek in the shower. He tried to think about escape routes and strike times, but Derek kept distracting him. Derek was _smug _about distracting him. Stiles slapped Derek's hands away from his hips. That only made Derek laugh, which left Stiles laughing uncontrollably while Derek held him up.

"Why couldn't we be like this out there?" Stiles asked.

Derek's mood plummeted. "Stiles..."

"No, Derek, there's something wrong with us. We're laughing and happy right now, and we were miserable back home."

"The lab hardly makes us happy."

"We're not in the lab now. We were yesterday, and we probably will be tomorrow, but not now." Stiles growled his frustration. Derek didn't—no, Derek got it. He just didn't want to. "Sorry," Stiles muttered. Derek had liked it last time.

Derek's hands shook. Their minds were linked now. He remembered. Stiles supported Derek's weight, but it wasn't enough. For one moment, Derek had fit here, had belonged, and now he couldn't take it back.

"Come on," Stiles pulled him away from the shower. He toweled Derek off and helped him dress. "I'm sorry."

Derek shook his head. "I..." He rubbed at his eyes and thought about dying here. "I love you, Stiles."

"Don't." Stiles tried to swallow the thickness from his throat. "Those are words for home. Or at least telepathy." Haha, No was watching and listening, and this was weakness. They couldn't afford more weaknesses.

"I don't want to die without having said it."

"We're not dying."

_There's more than one way to die,_ Derek thought.

Stiles held Derek's face between his hands and stared into his eyes. "We're not dying."

Derek didn't believe him.

**~.x.~**

"That's new," Stiles noted as the soldiers shoved him forward into the lab. There was just one chair again, but it was occupied. Behind the tangled mess of hair, Stiles made out Cat's features. It was strange thinking of her by name.

Derek tensed. He and Cat were not friends, but they were allies. He respected her strength and the way she ran headfirst at things guaranteed to get her killed, then walked away through sheer force of will when lesser people would have died. Stiles thought maybe he spent too much time in Derek's head.

The other machines had returned and brought friends. Haha, No and Cole stood near the chair holding clipboards and ballpoint pens. That was when Stiles felt it. He knew that if he willed it right now, Derek would lunge forward and strike. Maybe the soldiers would stop him, but he would fight with everything he had to take the scientists out if Stiles wanted him to. Derek wanted to.

Something beeped then hummed. Haha, No took notes on his clipboard.

Derek begged Stiles to take out the soldiers so he could sink his teeth into Haha, No's throat, though in Derek's mind he was 'The Scientist' or 'Shirley.'

The beeping returned as Stiles considered it, but the moment passed. He shook his head, and the noise stopped. Derek growled, but Stiles focused his thoughts on one of the new machines between them and the scientists. It wasn't a torture device; it was a defense mechanism.

"Well, that settles that," Haha, No commented with a grin. "Joker can command his Beast, though the process doesn't quite match up to what we're looking for."

Cole shook her head. "But at least Beast's impulse couldn't overcome his human's orders."

"I'll say." Haha, No smiled at them and spread his arms. "So which of you wants to play scientist?"

They stood still, watching. Both understood what he meant. Cat was in the chair. They were not. Haha, No wanted them to torture her just because he told them to. Derek bristled and wondered if maybe he could kill them _now_, but more soldiers had filed into the room to surround Haha, No and Cole. Some of them were shifters, despite the uniforms. Stiles noticed a patch in the shape of a rook sewn onto the shoulders of every uniform belonging to a shifter as well as an equal number of humans. The shifters had white rooks and the humans black ones. Partners. The regular soldiers wore uniforms without chess pieces for their shoulders.

"Have we made up for your failure yet?" Stiles asked because stalling seemed his best possible plan.

Cole frowned, but Haha, No smiled.

"We're still testing your theories to see if we can replicate you, at which point you become expendable."

"Aw, honey, you're just bitter we killed your old pets and forced you out of your facility." Stiles grinned.

"That's got to make it hard to convince people you're worth funding," Derek noted, under control once more.

"A minor setback."

"If it was so minor, why'd you have to find a new moneybags?" Stiles raised an eyebrow and hoped new uniforms meant new management.

"Funny, this has nothing to do with inflicting pain on this werewolf. Derek, come here." Haha, No beckoned Derek with a wave of his hand.

Derek gripped Stiles' hand nearly hard enough to break his fingers.

"We haven't got all day. Either come here, or Joker gets a wider grin."

A shifter grabbed Stiles from behind while others pushed Derek away. Stiles felt the shifter's slow, unworried breathing and wished his could match it as he watched the thing's fingernail grow into a jagged-edged blade and reach forward to press against the corner of his mouth.

Derek trudged forward on leaden legs. His eyes glowed red, but his palms remained open and his teeth flat.

"You are going to help me out. When Cat is impertinent, which is always, you will flip this switch." He motioned to the one that would send currents of pain through the needles suctioned to Cat's temples, throat, and chest. "Leave it until she learns her lesson, then deactivate it. Now, Cat, why don't you tell us about your old partner?"

"Fuck you," Cat spat.

Haha, No raised an eyebrow at Derek, and the knife/claw pressed more firmly against Stiles' cheek. Derek flipped the switch and immediately flipped it back.

At Haha, No's raised eyebrow, Derek shrugged. "She's a fast learner."

"I recall his name was Jefferson, though your fellows called him things like Ghost and Trance. Why was that?"

"Because you're a sick bastard."

"Derek?"

"I think that was a legitimate answer."

"Ah, I'm the sick bastard who traumatized him, resulting in his renowned lack of focus, yes. As I recall that's also what got him killed."

Cat thrashed against her bonds—kanima leather, still gross—screaming profanities until Derek activated the chair. Her words faded into garbled shrieks until Derek turned the pain off again. Then her breath came in ragged pants. Expression had fallen from Derek. He stood. He acted. He tried not to think or feel. Stiles remembered what Derek said about dying and hoped he had been wrong.

"And your friend Jorge, he died too, didn't he?"

"Jorge was my brother." They were simple words, but she filled them with more venom than her curses.

"Not actually your brother though."

This time Cat spoke slowly. "Jorge was my brother, and you killed him." She looked at Haha, No even though Derek had been the one to face Jorge in the arena.

"No, Derek killed him."

"Do I need to repeat myself _again_?" Cat spat bloody saliva at Haha, No but only hit his clipboard.

Haha, No turned to Derek. "I think she's getting a little too cheeky and articulate. Time for another lesson."

When Derek hesitated, the shifter's claw broke skin on Stiles cheek. Cat screamed in agony before the blood reached Stiles' chin. It wasn't a deep cut; Derek could have waited longer.

"What was it they called you again?" Haha, No tapped his pen against his lip. "I know the Bitch was one of them, but not a prevalent one."

"My favorite though." Cat grinned until the chair turned on and she screamed.

Haha, No turned with eyebrow raised, and Derek shrugged. "For sass." That seemed to please Haha, No, though it tore a gash through Derek's already battered heart.

"I call her Avenger," Stiles said even though it was only part true. He felt he owed her something, though a name was too little too late.

"I'll live up to it yet," Cat bit out, voice raw from screaming.

The blade bit further into Stiles' skin, and a new trickled of blood followed the first. Derek didn't hesitate any more.

**~.x.~**

They didn't always bring Stiles, and when they did it wasn't usually Cat they wanted Derek to torture. Alone, in their room, Derek trembled and cried and hated that even a passive threat was enough, that with Stiles locked up and otherwise unguarded, Derek would still do whatever Haha, No wanted. In the lab, Derek never hesitated, never questioned, never shook. Stiles thought this must have been how it felt watching him kill, watching him become Joker. Sometimes Stiles shook at night too.

"I know you could kill me with your hands," Derek whispered with his lips nearly against Stiles'. "If I asked you to, would you?"

"I can't."

"You just won't."

"That too."

"What if I tell you it's easy now?" Derek's voice deepened with the pain and shame of that, but Stiles already knew. Derek had adapted. In the illusory safety of their room, Derek was a wreck, but in the lab, his job was easy. Flip a switch, cut some skin, close a box, pull a string. Simple tasks. _I forget sometimes, _Derek thought. _That you're in here with me. I wish you weren't._

Stiles kissed him. He held Derek's face between his hands and set their foreheads together. "I love you," he breathed.

"Don't." Derek pulled back, shook his head. _I don't want to be loved. _

"It's not your choice."

"No." He remembered when he'd told Stiles the same thing, afraid he would die, but now that Stiles returned it, it was too late.

"It's not." Stiles pressed their lips together again even though Derek refused to kiss him back. "It's not too late."

Derek hoped they left Stiles behind next time. He needed some space, and some time away from his Hope Never Dies bullshit.

Stiles raised an eyebrow, but Derek only shrugged. _Not my fault you're in my head._

_ We made it out last time, _Stiles reminded him.

_Scott saved us last time. He's not coming now._

_ Then we save ourselves._

Derek turned away from Stiles, but there wasn't far to go on their small bed.

_Also, I'm still in your head, _Stiles reminded him.

Derek grunted, spun, and pinned Stiles to the mattress beneath him. He growled, baring fangs inches from Stiles face, but Stiles only laughed at him. Even though his arms were pinned, Stiles managed to reached his head forward just enough to kiss Derek and run his tongue over his teeth.

_They've got you beat,_ Stiles thought. Then he forged ahead over Derek's low growl. _Next they'll move against me. He wants both of us, no matter what he says about other partners 'reproducing' our bond._

Derek agreed. He leaned forward, sniffing along Stiles' neck and biting lightly with teeth returned to human dullness.

_They knew you were afraid of being too adaptable. The only thing they know I'm afraid of is losing you._

_ And your secrets. You're afraid of them finding Peter. _Derek ground himself against Stiles as though they weren't having a serious telepathic discussion.

_Oh. That. _Stiles wanted to groan but moaned instead, rocking his hips in time with Derek's and wishing he would let go of Stiles' arms so he could pull off their pants. What was the point of pants anyway?

_One more thing before pantlessness, _Derek thought. _If we can get out, do we take Cat?_

Stiles hesitated. Derek liked Cat. Stiles liked Cat too. She sacrificed her own freedom to help them rescue each other, even if she'd been manipulated into it and both efforts had failed. _Only if convenient, _he thought at last. He owed her more than that, but it was all he had to give. Derek agreed silently and ripped Stiles pants off so roughly he split a seam.

**~.x.~**

They put Stiles on the couch, and Cole handed him a sheet of paper off her clipboard. It was a list of questions. _When did you bond? When did you become aware of it? Did you want it? Why did you keep it? How did it survive when you didn't? How did you use it? What did it feel like when you lost it? Do you want it back? _Blah blah bond blah, etc.

Stiles raised an eyebrow. Derek stood at his regular station by the chair controls, but the chair sat empty. For a moment, Stiles thought they meant Derek to torture him, but not yet. These weren't the questions they would ask of Stiles. He leaned against the arm of the couch and crossed his ankles with an insolent grin as he waited.

The door slammed open. Stiles thought back to other doors slamming, but only for a moment. Soldiers struggle through with a werewolf. A black sack hid his face, but Stiles saw his claws and heard his growls. Derek began sending comfort, of all things, to Stiles through the bond until Stiles broke it down with incredulity. By that time, they had the wolf in the chair and tore the sack from his head. Derek nodded toward him rather than explaining, either with words or thoughts. Stiles turned.

Peter.

They had found Peter. His eyes glowed as he snarled, fangs bared, trying to snap at his captors since they had already bound his wrists and ankles. They attached the needles to his temples, throat, and chest. The sack had left his hair a mess, tangled and sticking out at strange angles. There was a red line over his throat, and Stiles thought the sack's end must have been tied with incorporated wolfsbane somehow. Peter saw Derek first. He froze, eyes darting, clearly looking for chains and wounds that weren't there. Derek shook his head, only slightly. Peter nodded.

His gaze left Derek then and landed on Stiles. Stiles was chained by one ankle to the couch, not a hard restriction, but enough to slow him down if he tried anything. There was a fading bruise on his cheek because Stiles refused to stop beating on his guards every chance he got. He wondered how much more Peter would notice with his heightened senses.

_Do we take Peter? _Stiles asked.

Derek hesitated, eyed Peter, then Stiles, then the switch Derek would have to use soon. _Only if convenient._

"Before you try to be coy," Haha, No said. "We know this is the one you were bound to, the only other wolf in Beacon Hills before Derek started biting children."

Peter chuckled. "Stiles? Coy? Come now." His voice was rough but strong.

"I suggest you get started." Haha, No pointed to the sheet of questions in Stiles' hand.

"Just like that?" Stiles asked. "Not even a threat to get the juices flowing?"

"Oh, yes, I forgot." He snapped his fingers, and the second door opened. Soldiers dragged in Cat, but she didn't fight as Peter had. She hung limply from their grasp even though her eyes were open. Her bare feet left a streak of blood across the floor where they passed. "I don't want to interrupt Beast's work, but I thought maybe this one would do for now." The soldiers hooked her wrists into the hanging device and pressed a knife to her throat. "Obviously, I can change if I need to, but this should be sufficient, don't you think?"

Stiles glanced at Derek. All four of them in one room. _Convenient?_

_ Seems that way. _Derek turned his back to Cat.

The soldiers pressed the blade into Cat's skin, drawing blood. Stiles grimaced. "Chill, man, I'm getting to it." He lifted the paper and cleared his throat. "When did you bond?"

"What?"

"Derek, that doesn't sound like an answer," Haha, No said.

"I don't think he understood the question." Derek kept his hands at his sides, away from the switch.

"Oh, it means like a psychic sort of link between a human and a werewolf. Science man over there thinks you had one with me and wants you to tell us when it formed." Stiles shrugged like this was normal and harmless.

"What? You didn't tell him?" Peter scoffed.

"I am very resistant to torture, thank you very much."

"Do I smell a challenge?" Peter grinned.

"Like you could last longer than me. You only burned nearly to death in a fire once."

"And got killed by my nephew."

"Props on coming back both times, by the way."

"Thank you, Stiles. I didn't know you cared."

"Credit where credit's due, man."

"Okay," Haha, No interrupted. "This is not an interrogation."

Derek flipped the switch. Peter arched and thrashed in the chair, but he growled more than screamed. He'd been through pain before. The soldier took the blade from Cat's throat and rammed it fully into her stomach. She gasped, mouth working with pain though no words came out. Other than the blood running down her front, not much seemed to change. Her time here had clearly been worse than Derek and Stiles'.

"Ah," Peter muttered when Derek deactivated the chair. "So that's your role."

Derek shrugged.

"Anyway," Stiles said. "About your magical bond with me. When did that start, exactly?"

"Does it matter? It's sort of finished now."

"Hey," Stiles called to Haha, No before Derek could punish Peter again. "Do I have to go in order?"

"No, Joker. Be creative." He smiled. It was a nasty thing even on his evil face.

"Cool. So, Petes, how does _not_ being magically bound to my brain make you feel?"

"About the same as before I was magically bound to your brain."

Derek flipped the switch.

"Hey, that was an answer!" Stiles shouted.

"No it wasn't." Derek's voice was more than calm. It was empty. Stiles reached for him mentally and felt the disconnection Derek forced in himself daily now. He wouldn't be helping Stiles except by doing his job so no one widened Stiles' mouth with a knife.

"Like do you miss it?" Stiles tried, mouth dry. "Are you happy it's gone?"

"Well, I thought with it gone, I wouldn't have to come after you this time, but clearly that didn't do me as much good as I'd hoped." Peter's breathing was too heavy for the words to carry the levity he intended, but Stiles thought he did an admirable job or trying. Torture was a lot of pressure to contend with, even in the early stages.

God. _Early_ stages.

Peter avoided direct answers, even to the questions Stiles wanted to know more about. That was for the best, though it meant Derek kept inflicting horrible agony on him via evil science chair. Cat only got stabbed a few more times. She was weak. Useless. If they escaped with her, Cat would only be a burden. They couldn't wait for her to heal either. She would break soon, and then it would be too late. She was already close, helpless and listless with almost no fight left in her. Their captors only had to break through the haze of apathy now.

They had a better chance of helping Peter. He was new here, still strong and angry. Maybe he would hold a grudge for their torturing him, but Derek and Peter had been anything but close and trusting before. They could still work together, but only if Derek turned off the part of his brain that let him hurt people so easily.

Or if Stiles made him.

Stiles winced back from that, though he got the feeling Derek wouldn't mind right now. Later, Stiles thought he would, but Derek cared about all of nothing right now except following orders.

"You must've noticed at some point," Stiles said even though his tongue was so dry and thick at this point he barely believed he could form coherent syllables, much less sentences. "I'm an obnoxious sort of thing to have in your brain."

Haha, No obviously expected nothing to come of this session. Stiles was inexperienced in interrogation. Derek was, well, terrifyingly good at his part, but Peter was resistant. This was just for Haha, No's amusement. He'd get answers out of Peter on his own.

"I was slowly going madder than before, but I didn't realize the cause was anything but dealing with Derek and a bunch of teenagers."

Derek flipped the switch. Peter growled and screamed. Derek flipped the switch back.

"That was a real answer, Derek. _Teenagers. _And I couldn't even get Melissa to agree to another date once she found out I was a werewolf."

That was a slip. A fucking slip. He'd given away Scott's _mom. _Stiles grinned so hard it hurt. Peter's eyes widened, then closed. He knew what he'd done. Good. Stiles' satisfaction broke Derek's trance. Cole scribbled notes furiously while Haha, No laughed.

Well, this was a good moment.

"You're a stupid fucker," Stiles growled. He grinned too, angry voice and manic grin combining into something he knew most people—not Peter; he'd always been immune to Stiles' scare tactics—would run from. The chain on Stiles ankle was weak; one of the links was already bent from some torture or another.

"Wow, he's trying to kill you and you're worried about _name dropping?" _Peter rolled his eyes. For a moment, Stiles understood why they'd been bound. Peter was a genius. "Have some more then: Isaac and Boyd. Allison." He grinned wickedly. "Lydia."

Stiles aimed straight for the twisted link and smashed it with his foot until it broke. Haha, No raised a hand to stop his soldiers because Stiles was clearly after Peter. "How dare you," Stiles screamed while Derek pretended to feel nothing. It took three blows, but the chain bent and broke. As soon as he was free, Stiles charged at Peter. He grabbed his face and smashed his head against the back of the chair, tearing the tiny needles off with audible rips as the suction cups lost grip. He smashed Peter's fingers and toes and rammed his fist into Peter's gut.

The chair wasn't designed for easy escape, but Stiles only had to get one wrist free for Peter to do the rest himself. He screamed and climbed onto the side of the large, metal frame and ripped at Peter's hair with one hand and he beat his battered fingers with the other fist. Once his body blocked most of the view—there were guards everywhere; no obstruction would be perfect—Stiles turned his beating into unbuckling the leather strap on Peter's wrist. He hoped the hand wasn't too damaged to finish the job.

Haha, No was suspicious now; Derek could tell. Something beeped when he warned Stiles. Of course it did. Peter threw Stiles back with a growl and freed himself faster than Stiles would have thought possible. Stiles rolled when he landed and came to his feet almost on top of a soldier, so he punched the guy and took his gun while Derek leapt toward Cat. Damnit.

_Not convenient!_ Stiles thought at him, but Derek already had Cat freed.

Haha, No was retreating. Stiles fired. He thought he'd have hit him right in the stomach if someone hadn't tackled him from behind. Stiles hit the ground hard but didn't waste time remembering how to breathe. He just moved, twisting to face his attacker. It was Wight. Human. Female. Unbound. Vengeful.

He screamed and laughed and writhed and got a hand free so he could ram it against the side of her nose. A broken nose wasn't fatal, but it was distracting. She cried out, closed her eyes, flinched. Stiles shoved her off him, straddled her, and beat her face in so hard he wasn't sure she'd ever be pretty again. His fists were bloody when he stood.

The soldiers focused on Peter and Derek. Rookie mistake.

Stiles found a blade on Wight and stabbed it into the back of the nearest soldier. Then he had a knife and a new gun. The next soldier gave him ammo, but the one after that grazed him with a bullet. Stiles was so angry he shot his own bullet through the guy's eye at point-blank range. Then he laughed because it felt right. Derek had reached an exit but didn't go through, not without Stiles. Haha, No moved toward the other at the center of a mass of soldiers and freaks, but Peter, growling as viciously as when he'd been the alpha, blocked his way. Not for long. Peter slowly cleared a path for himself toward Derek. He wanted to escape. Fuck that. Stiles wanted...

Well, vengeance.

Vengeance looked like Haha, No's head on platter, so Stiles charged the soldiers before remembering smiles couldn't make him invincible. He wore one anyway. Close range made their guns useless. Too much risk of hitting an ally or their boss. Not so for Stiles. He was crazy, and his only allies were werewolves. The enemy shifters proved more trouble with their claws, teeth, and superhuman strength and reflexes, but they didn't know Stiles.

He targeted a human with a black rook on her shoulder. His first shot went wide, but the next one hit her in the gut. She doubled over as he reached her, and Stiles slit her throat. A were—okay, it looked like a were_roach—_stumbled when she fell, and Stiles fired into one of its eyes while it was distracted. Stiles ignored its thrashing legs in favor of the next black rook. If he continued one at a time, Haha, No would inevitably escape, but this was Stiles' only choice.

Something caught him from behind. Something sharp and flesh-rending and _in his shoulder_. He screamed but spun toward it, slashing wildly with his knife. It must have expected him to fall, because Stiles caught the shifter behind him in the face. Derek reached the shifter and tore his throat out while he stared at Stiles as if confused a human would dare injure him. Stiles moved on, though he had lost some mobility in his left arm. At least it wasn't his right.

When Stiles aimed for a human partner, a pair of shifters grabbed him instead. That was when he realized how close he was. Haha, No gave him an appraising look from behind another pair of shifter guards. "You are much more intimidating when you can kill things. Has anyone ever told you that?"

Stiles spat at him.

Derek was frozen now that Haha, No had Stiles. Peter had stilled as well, though Derek didn't trust his investment in Stiles. The beeping started again, and Stiles realized it was a small device on Haha, No's belt. It looked like a pager.

"While this was a fun exercise, let's say we all go back to our rooms and think about what we've done here. After I fix your smile, that is." He smirked. "A promise is a promise."

One of the shifters raised a claw to Stiles' cheek. Stiles tried to bite its hand, but it was too fast for him. The other one gripped his jaw to hold him still. This was going to suck.

The claw started midway up his cheek instead of the corner of his mouth, and Stiles wondered if all of Haha, No's minions were morons or just not good at hurting people. Instead of ripping through his skin, it moved slowly. That part Haha, No probably liked, but it gave Stiles time to avoid horrible scarring, so he giggled. The shifter froze, confused, because all of them were too dumb not to be surprised by Stiles anymore. And then something barreled into Haha, No. Something dirty and bloody and topped by a wild mane of hair.

Cat snarled with her claws at Haha, No's throat, They had already slashed through the flesh of his face rather than wasting time trying to have 'fun.' That would scar. "Call them off," she growled. Her voice was broken, but Stiles had underestimated her will.

Haha, No coughed. "Let him go," he said at last, and the shifters dropped Stiles.

_Don't kill him, _Derek thought. _We need him to escape._

Stiles growled and grinned and helped Cat stand, dragging Haha, No along too, with her claws still at his throat. Derek and Peter followed behind as Stiles and Cat made their way to the door. Cat was determined, but her body was beaten. They moved at a trudge. Stiles had Haha, No order every soldier they saw to drop their weapons and leave without sounding an alarm, but that wouldn't last forever.

The alarm sounded.

Stiles winced. Definitely not forever. Derek grabbed Haha, No by the back of the neck and stabbed his claws into the man's arm. Then he withdrew and returned to guarding their backs like nothing had happened. Stiles tried not to be turned on because he knew Derek would hate that. It didn't work. Derek thought they were both sick. Haha, No's pager beeped. Stiles grabbed it, threw it to the ground, and smashed his foot against it until it fell to pieces. Then they moved on.

"You realize the therapy bills are going to be even worse this time," Haha, No said exactly as if there were no razor-sharp claws against his throat.

"We dealt with life once. We can do it again." Stiles shouldn't have taken the bait, but he wanted to convince himself as much as anyone else.

"They called you codependent then. What do you think you'll get now? I gave you a room full of showerheads, and you still shared one."

"What? Don't you like shower sex?"

"Of course. I especially like the way you never fully break contact because that's how I taught you to do it." Haha, No grinned.

Stiles remembered the showers with water that only stayed warm when they touched. These showers hadn't been like that. He had no memory of trying to maintain contact with Derek, but neither could he remember ever letting him go.

"Were you really in charge there?"

Haha, No's nostrils flared. His pupils dilated. Stiles had stumbled on a touchy subject. Good.

"Are you really in charge here?"

"Yes." He bit off the word with a bitter voice.

Stiles wanted to ask more, but someone was shooting at them. He pushed Haha, No in front of him as a meat shield and attack deterrent. Haha, No screamed for them to cease fire, and they did, eventually, when they heard him over their own gunshots. Then he ordered them to go. They hesitated. He assured them that his life, their jobs, and 'everything else' depended on them retreating now. Each time he heard it, Stiles believed less and less that everything else referred to the Franken-shifters.

With his good hand, Stiles grabbed Haha, No by his collar and shoved him forward to trudge along with Cat once more. His fingers brushed against dry skin. Drier than skin, and hard. Edged. Stiles jerked Haha, No's lab coat down by his collar to reveal the skin at the back of his neck. Scales. He had scales. Not grafted scales like Frankie, but a smooth blend of skin to scale like what Stiles remembered Matt showed after misusing the kanima.

"I always thought it was something big and evil," Stiles mused, running a finger along the scales. Haha, No flinched. "But it was all for this, wasn't it? Obviously it became more. It had to. But this is where it started. You killed out of turn while bound to a kanima."

Haha, No tensed. Stiles felt his muscles shift to pull away before he remembered the claws at his throat and the half-mad werewolf behind them. "You think you've got me all figured out then, huh?"

"Never." Stiles grinned. "It's not just about a cure. You're making new monsters too." He paused. "Did it change when she died?" He shook his head. "You passed on her bond long before that, but you were still in control. Feeding instruction to Mirabelle so she could command the kanima as you pleased."

"That was a genius plan, and you know it." He grinned, almost like he'd regained his composure, but he kept stumbling as Cat pushed him forward.

"Except you can't cheat a kanima," Derek said.

"No, but it's about the only thing in this world I can't."

Stiles grinned. "I'm sure we can find something else."

Cat flexed her claws.

They reached the stairs then and climbed up into what appeared to be a complex of cabins. Derek and Cat saw this when they sneaked in, hunting for Stiles, but Stiles had never thought to ask. Had been too stupid to ask, apparently. They were disguised as a summer camp or camping retreat or something equally ridiculous. It looked too easy to escape, which only convinced Stiles it would be more heavily guarded.

_How far do you think we can make it like this? _Derek thought-asked. He meant how far could Haha, No take them as their captive.

_Farther than we'd get without him. _Stiles doubted they'd get away. That would be too easy, and the only thing Haha, No ever made easy was murder. _But we have to try._

Derek nodded. Haha, No was watching them, probably aware by the silent pause that they were communicating. Cat and Peter eyed the other cabins and the woods, alert for enemies.

"Finally realized your plan is a dumb one?" Haha, No asked. A cocky grin lit up his face past the blood. Too smug. Too certain. Stiles wanted to hit him until his bones cracked.

Peter snatched Cat's hand away from Haha, No just long enough to punch him in the face without slicing his neck open. It was oddly satisfying to watch. Derek disagreed.

"You won't get out, and even if you did, they'd just find you again." His face twisted in anger to suit the fresh blood streaming from his nose. Stiles would have smiled. Madness was the best intimidator.

"I think we're your pet project," Stiles noted. "The others don't care about us."

"Oh they care." This time Haha, No managed the grin. Much more effective. "I meant it about trying to reproduce you, but we're failing. You're special. You're powerful."

"We're prone to killing people who annoy us," Derek said. He didn't smile, but Stiles did, as if excited by the idea.

"We're wasting time," Cat muttered. She pushed forward, already mostly recovered despite being tortured and stabbed multiple times. She'd been so broken before, but she stood tall now, and strong. Stiles remembered when Derek broke Erica's arm to jumpstart her healing into ending a seizure. Adrenaline was one hell of a werewolf painkiller. Stiles wished it worked as well for him.

_It could, _Derek thought. They both retreated from what he'd just offered and followed Cat. Peter eyed them like he understood even though he couldn't. Stiles' mouth was dry.


	4. Twitching

**Part Four: Twitching **

There were bad guys in the trees. Literally _in the trees. _They kept leaping from the trunks like angered wood spirits and slashing at Stiles and his companions. Stiles looked for humans every time but never saw them. Haha, No grinned at that, though he wore a grimace most of the time now.

They had been running for hours. The trees hid them somewhat, though not as well as they hid Haha, No's experiments. Or successes maybe. Stiles thought they seemed pretty well developed with the way they kept ambushing him. Stiles was tiring. Haha, No kept stumbling, and not just to be difficult—though he was that too. Healing so rapidly had drained Cat, and she moved at more Stiles' pace than Derek's. The Hales were fine. Of course they were, Stiles reflected bitterly. They were werewolves and strong.

_I could be too_, Stiles remembered. Not now, but after, when they were safe again. If he wanted it.

Did he want it?

Derek grabbed Stiles by his shirt collar and tugged him behind a tree. His eyes flickered among the trees, searching. Stiles wondered what for, and Derek told him to shut his brain so he could concentrate. Peter had stopped Cat and Haha, No as well. Stiles hadn't heard them speak to plan anything. He frowned. Derek's hand fell from his shirt to the ground, and when Derek rose again, he held a branch, which Stiles was sure would make perfect sense if it didn't make no sense at all. Derek threw it forward into the trees he'd been eyeing, and shifters leapt snarling from their trunks. Okay, maybe it made a little sense.

They stopped, looked around. Laughed and shook their heads. False alarm. They returned to their trees, shimmering slowly, passing into—no, climbing. They—Stiles stopped his thoughts short, rewound, studied his memory. It was an illusion. They climbed into the trees and leapt from the branches, making it look like they passed through the wood. How? He glanced toward Haha, No but knew he wouldn't get an answer. Magic, probably. Magic was real and confusing enough to explain just about anything.

Derek set a hand on Stiles' shoulder. He hadn't seen what Stiles did, but he trusted Stiles' eyes. He had worked magic before with a handful of ash.

_How did you notice them?_ Stiles asked while the others stared at them.

_The moss grows in the wrong place on the trees they use._

Stiles had an absurd urge to compare it to a video game with the breakable wall a lighter color than the others around it. This wasn't a game though. It was a weakness, and he and Derek knew all about those. Now that Derek had mentioned it, Stiles noted the moss. It wasn't so much on the wrong side as on too many sides. He wondered if it was a side-effect or part of how they created the illusion. No time to find out. Stiles lifted a hand, motioning for everyone to continue moving with Derek in the lead so he could watch for over-mossed trees.

Avoiding most of the ambushes helped, but Stiles still slowed. Haha, No and Cat still slowed. Even Peter looked tired as he guarded the rear. Derek burned with manic adrenaline. He could run all week if he had to, but by that point, he would be running alone. Stiles doubted they would make it out. He doubted it would do much good even if they did.

"He was right, you know," Stiles whispered.

Derek frowned.

"They'll come after us again. We can't just slip out and expect it to end there."

"I wish you'd realized this a few hours ago. My feet are killing me." Haha, No groaned, but it was a smug kind of groan, just an act to let him say, 'I told you so,' without losing more of the skin from his face.

"Assuming I get my way, I'm also killing you, so I'd shut up about now." Cat's voice was strained with exhaustion. She needed a break. Actually, she needed a month's worth of sleep and a year's worth of calories.

Haha, No shrugged.

"There's nothing else we can do," Derek said, "Our plan is the best one."

"Sorry, we have a plan?" Peter raised a hand.

"Run home and regroup there."

"Thrilling, but that doesn't clarify what we do with him." Peter pointed to Haha, No.

_Kill him? _Stiles asked. He wanted to present a unified front between Derek and himself, just in case.

_Please, God, yes. _Derek growled, and his eyes glowed with bloodlust.

"Cat's plan sounds like a good one," Stiles said with a shrug.

"Not from where I'm standing," Haha, No muttered. "And your other plan sucks too. You can't just regroup and hope for the best. You _were_ grouped when I caught you before. Both times."

"But you won't be around to catch anyone." Cat smiled sweetly.

He rolled his eyes. "I'm hardly the only one here."

"But the only one who cares."

"I'm not."

Derek groaned because it wasn't a lie.

"They'll come after you even without me."

Still not a lie. Stiles smiled too hard.

"Unless..." He paused, and Stiles sighed because they'd reached the bargaining for his life part of their relationship. "I could stop them. Convince them you're not worth the trouble."

Hypothetical promises were too slick for werewolf lie detectors. Derek growled. He didn't like it. Cat growled. Peter rolled his eyes.

"_Are_ we worth the trouble?" Stiles knew Haha, No wanted to study them and to use them, but he also knew they were a hell of a lot of trouble.

"Depends on who you ask."

"I'm asking you."

"Yes." He smiled.

"Even if we kill you?" Derek asked nonchalantly.

Haha, No shrugged. "I'm trying to avoid that part, I admit."

"Is this really the right time, guys?" Cat's eyes flashed weakly.

"What other time is there?" Stiles asked. "We've sort of passed his usefulness, so our best option right now is to decide what to do with him and do it. If we kill him, he can't slow us down. If we let him live, we need to hide him somewhere so he can't lead them to our trail."

"What makes you think you won't need me at the boundary? Assuming you reach the boundary."

"You should probably consolidate your bargaining chips. Come at us from one strong angle instead of several weak ones." Stiles raised an eyebrow.

Haha, No shrugged. "No harm in trying, right? But seriously, the barrier is activated. You aren't exactly getting past it, and I'd rather not be dead either way."

"I vote we kill him and go down fighting." Cat's voice was hard-edged even past the fatigue.

"I vote we don't die," Peter countered.

"With Peter on this one." Stiles raised a hand. Derek nodded his agreement.

"We've been in this spot too long," Stiles said. "We move on and talk more as we go."

They moved on. Haha, No frowned, rolled his eyes, and plodded along as commanded. He made too much noise, even to Stiles' human ears.

Derek stepped forward and froze with his foot in the air. Then—pain. It shot through him, a current of agony just like that of the chair. For a moment, Stiles thought they were back there, strapped in with the skin of Haha, No's lost kanima. Then Derek fell back, gasping, and Stiles scrambled forward, already on his knees somehow. He pressed his fingers to Derek's face, watched as his eyes opened, felt his heartbeat settle along with Derek's.

"That's new." There was a grin behind Haha, No's voice.

Stiles kissed Derek and pulled him up. They eyed the empty air where Derek had been electrocuted.

"Just a guess, but that's the barrier, and also _not_ what you meant by new." Stiles' breath was short. He set a hand to his chest and willed his body back to normal. He hadn't even been injured.

Haha, No laughed. "Maybe not so useful as I thought, not so... controlled."

Stiles remembered torture. He'd been aware of Derek's pain, but never incapacitated by it. Fuck but this was _weakness._ It was new, and it was bad. This could get them killed. His mind flinched back from Derek's so violently he felt the bond stretch with it and nearly break. He stopped. Focused on his breathing, making it slow, steady, controlled. The bond was new and wild itself. He needed to train it, to learn to control it so nothing like this ever happened again. That was all. He reached for Derek and winced at the betrayal waiting there.

_Sorry. Panicked._

_ Noticed. _Derek put his arms around Stiles though in a brief hug. He was forgiven.

"I really wish I still had my beeper."

"You're a stupid asshole who is about to tell us how to get past that." Stiles jabbed a thumb at the invisible barrier.

"Really unlikely, to be honest. I still kind of think Cat's gonna kill me."

"Only if I don't kill you first," Stiles said with a smile too soft to be called a grin. His fingers twitched, and so did his eye. Haha, No noticed, and his eyes widened. Stiles was the monster he'd made of him, so he had to know what he would do to him, what he would _gladly_ do to him. Derek slipped an arm around Stiles' waist but kept the frown on his face.

"This is wonderfully tense and all, but I suspect some sort of alarm went off when Derek hit that wall, so we should run," Peter said.

"Good point. But I want to run that way." Stiles pointed past the barrier. "And I need a moment to figure out how."

"You really think you can break me?" Haha, No laughed at that.

"You're kind of a genius. Evil and crazy, but genius. Show of hands for those who agree." Stiles and Derek raised their hands. Cat and Peter followed suit, but they stared at Stiles like _he_ was the crazy one. "You're also incredibly competent. You built two facilities I've seen, and who knows how many I haven't. You manipulated me expertly into bonding with Derek, and you've cracked a scary-large number of shifters and humans into working for you." He left out that despite the beginning of the change, Haha, No was still human even though that was also a valid point.

"True enough. Is there a point to this?"

"I know you were bound to a kanima once, but what about now?"

"Worried someone's gonna find their way to me?" He smirked.

Peter set his claws against the skin of Haha, No's throat and pressed just enough to break skin. "Answer the question."

"Obviously I wouldn't risk that happening again, so no."

"Backup can find him other ways," Cat began, "We need to—"

"That wasn't why I asked."

"Oh my God. I am sick of your insane bullshit." Cat threw her arms in the air and probably would have stormed off if it wouldn't mean her dying alone.

Peter spoke at the same time she did, but all he said was, "Oh." He got it. Stiles could see in his eyes that he got it, and Stiles realized again that they hadn't been bound by accident. They could have been great partners if things worked out differently. Derek squirmed away from that thought, but Stiles didn't give himself that luxury, not with what he wanted Peter to do. "It can't all be me," Peter pointed out.

"I know." He paused. "Is it enough though. For your part?"

Peter shrugged.

"What the hell are you talking about now?" Cat scowled at them.

Derek ran a hand over his eyes and down past his lips and jaw. "You don't want to know."

"What did you learn about Peter?" Stiles asked Haha, No.

"What?"

Peter's claws found his throat again. "Answer the question."

"He's about as crazy as you. Less predictable since he's not my brand of crazy. Determined. Angry. Selfish. Probably better for you than Derek, to be honest. Your new boy's a bit of a wet blanket. Not that I don't adore him because you know I do."

"You mean you wish you'd had Peter in your arena." Stiles sighed even though that was a good sign.

"You know it." He winked.

"Then I guess this might actually work." He nodded to Peter, who sighed the sigh of the eternally put-upon. As Peter steeled himself to his task, Stiles said, "I figured it out, you know. The bond. It becomes what we need when we form it." Peter and Stiles hadn't needed anything from each other. Their bond was light, but open to future use because they both knew someday that might change. Derek and Stiles had needed each other desperately, to know everything about each other, to plan in secrecy with each other.

Haha, No laughed.

Peter set a hand on Haha, No's shoulder but looked to Stiles. "This could end badly for you, Stiles."

"I know. Do it."

Peter closed his eyes. Cat widened hers and backed away. So she'd figured it out. Derek took a step away from Stiles and toward Haha, No. It was a protective step, but also a disapproving one.

"Oh," Haha, No said. "I should have seen this coming, I guess."

"Don't feel bad," Stiles said with a grin. "No one sees me coming. Why do you think I always win?"

Haha, No eyed Peter. "I don't think you can make me. You still need me, and there's no guarantee he'll be able to read me the way you want."

Derek stepped forward again.

"What are you doing?" Haha, No stood his ground, but he wasn't smiling.

"I'm your interrogative punisher, remember?" Derek took another step. "It's my job to inflict pain until all questions are answered."

"Pain doesn't scare me."

"I know." He took Haha, No's hand and lifted it. "But you fear losing control, and if I bite you, you'll complete the transition into a kanima desperate for a master." Derek's face was blank, but he let himself feel his disgust and fear, rather than pulling away as he had in the lab.

"You wouldn't."

"Kanima's harmless without a master. I would." He set his teeth to Haha, No's skin, and there was nothing human strength could do to pull away from an alpha.

"Stop," Peter said softly. "It's done."

Haha, No crumpled when Derek released him. Peter stepped forward, eyes tight with concentration, and knelt beside Haha, No. "You could just tell us, you know."

The only response Haha, No gave was to spit in Peter's face.

"Nice." Peter wiped the spit away. "His name is Dimitri," he said, voice bitter. "And his fear makes him weak_." _Haha, No winced. Peter had needed information, and his bond formed so as to give him it. Then Peter started laughing. He pointed up at a tree with too much moss right above them and laughed again. No one leapt out of it. No other trees nearby had the moss, and the others had all been in clusters. That explained how they missed it, but not why this tree had Peter in fits. Then Peter stood, set his hand against the moss, and twisted as it shimmered. "We have twenty seconds," he said. Then he grabbed Haha, No and ran.

The others followed suit and ran straight through the barrier that had electrocuted Derek only moments ago.

**~.x.~**

Derek and Cat knew the way home, but not what to do with Haha, No. Peter refused to let harm come to him while their bond remained intact. Stiles agreed. Peter was an asset, and they couldn't harm him now just because Stiles forced him into bonding a psychopath.

"I told you emotions weren't important," Haha, No muttered. Stiles couldn't get used to calling him Dimitri.

"I thought your righteous vengeance was supposed to let you control him though?" Stiles couldn't resist the jab. He knew it made him petty—Derek refused to let him forget that—but he didn't care.

"If my vengeance was righteous, I wouldn't have fucking scales."

"Touché."

They walked in silence then, too scared to rest and too tired to run. Stiles' eyes worked poorly in the dark of night, but Derek helped him see. Stiles wondered if Peter did the same, and if his bond was strong enough that he could if he wanted to.

"How does it compare then?" Stiles asked. When Haha, No raised an eyebrow, Stiles clarified, "_Your _bond."

"Not strong, but nimble." He eyes Peter. "Also there's a madman in my head."

"I could say the same." Peter smirked.

"A madman full of false bravado he knows isn't working." Haha, No scowled.

"At least my name isn't Dimitri."

"Fuck you."

"I want to kill you all right now," Cat groaned. "Can I? It would certainly solve a lot of problems."

"Even me?" Derek asked with mock hurt. He and Cat must have become close quickly if he felt comfortable enough to tease her. _She was helping me save you, _Derek reminded Stiles.

"You know I can't kill Joker and not you. Unless I wanted to die, I mean."

"I wouldn't have to lift a finger, Cat. Stiles would kill you." He shrugged. He and Cat maintained straight, maybe even fearful, expressions for nearly a full minute before Cat cracked up and Derek cracked a smile.

"I don't see how you have any right to judge my sense of humor. That was not funny at all." Haha, No raised an eyebrow at them. Stiles wouldn't have noticed in the darkness except that Derek thought it amusing and showed him.

"Peter, why is your prisoner giving lip?" Cat asked.

Peter shrugged. "I like a little sass."

"I am going to die mortified and surrounded by monsters of my own making. I get the feeling I asked for this somewhere along the way. It was the nametag, wasn't it? That's where I went too far."

Peter chuckled.

"We could gag him," Derek offered.

"More likely we should steal a car somewhere to speed things along and take him home as our new pet," Peter said, motioning to a faint light in what Stiles guessed must be the direction of the road. "I get the feeling he likes pets."

"That's different from being one."

"You weren't this whiney before," Stiles noted.

"I wasn't losing before."

Stiles laughed. "You were losing the moment you laid eyes on me. You just didn't know it yet." He grinned and realized by the others' wide eyes that they all believed him.

_Of course we believe you, _Derek thought._ You're right._

**~.x.~**

They walked back into Beacon Hills on their own. No heroes rescued them this time. This was more what Stiles expected from the start, to free himself and Derek, and maybe a few others, and return home to find no one knew where he was. Stiles was his own hero now, but he wondered if it counted to bring home a party of five monsters. Or four monsters and Cat. She wasn't so bad.

Scott and Isaac met them before they made it through the woods surrounding the city. They pounced Derek and Stiles, crushing them with hugs and thankfulness. Then they eyed the others suspiciously. Isaac gave Peter a single, firm nod, then turned to Derek to take his lead on how to treat the others.

"This is Cat," Derek said. "She's a friend."

"This is Dimitri," Peter said before Derek could. "He's less a friend, but he's mine nonetheless."

Derek narrowed his eyes but let it stand. Haha, No looked appropriately horrified, which was probably the only reason Cat didn't mention killing him again.

Isaac and Scott had cell phones, so they called the others to let them know their friends had come home safely. Stiles' voice shook when he spoke to his father. It shouldn't have. It was stupid. Then when he heard his father's tears over the phone, Stiles' voice gave out on him completely.

_Take me to him,_ Stiles thought so fiercely Derek shook with the force of it. _Sorry. _Stiles wasn't sure what else to say, but Derek took the phone and told the sheriff they would meet him at the station or his house.

_Your house,_ Derek thought for Stiles when he ended the call. "You're going home now."

Haha, No's eyes lit up with fascination as Stiles' knees and lungs failed him just as his voice had. It was over. He was going home. Peter pulled Haha, No away at some point. Stiles noticed their absence too late. He'd been focused on air, and the way it refused to pass through his throat and into his lungs. Stiles clung to Derek while the others watched with knowing eyes. He wheezed at them to stop, but they didn't know what he meant. Derek did, and he was sorry. Then they were in a car, riding in the back seat with Cat beside them, squished against the door even with Derek and Stiles clinging to each other in the rest of the seat.

Stiles remembered how his father had looked before: old and tired and scared. He looked worse now, like he'd been in a box in The View with blacked-out walls and only his sons screams sounding through for company. Stiles leapt into his arms and just held him. They both shook.

"We tried to find you," Stiles' dad breathed at last. "For so long, we..." He sobbed.

_We made sure they couldn't track us, _Derek explained. _So no one else would get hurt._

_ Thank you. _Stiles closed his eyes. He didn't know what he would do if his father got killed trying to save him.

"I'm here now, Dad," Stiles said, not sure what else there was.

"How bad was it?" Practical. Stiles liked that.

"We can't be separated this time." Stiles started with the hard part. Hard for his father, easier for Stiles.

"You said that last time too, Stiles. We won't know until—"

"No, I mean—We're..." he wet his lips, buying time for his brain to catch up to reality and tell him how to say this. "Our minds are bound telepathically. We literally cannot be separated."

"Oh." He paused. "Are you okay?"

Stiles nodded.

His dad turned to Derek. "Is he lying?"

Derek flinched. "He's trying to make you feel better."

"So he's lying."

"I'm _right here."_

"We don't know how bad it is yet. He's being optimistic."

"Now _you're _lying, aren't you?"

Derek shrugged.

"He's not lying. I may have had a little attack after talking to you, but we don't know if that will continue or stop or get worse. But _with Derek_, I am okay. We can handle our bond." Stiles realized only when he stopped talking that he'd raised his voice. "Sorry," he mumbled.

They were silent for a moment after Stiles' outburst. Then his dad pulled Stiles in for another hug. "I missed you, Son."

"Missed you too, Dad."

Derek disapproved. Stiles hardly thought of his father while they were captives. He hadn't missed him, and Derek thought Stiles should admit it to his therapists if he couldn't to his father. Suddenly having Derek in his head seemed a lot less fun.

**~.x.~**

The corpses were gone, but the camping chairs and popcorn machine sat where Stiles remembered them. The place looked off with Haha, No lounging in slacks and a pinstriped suit jacket on one of those chairs with his ankles crossed and his neck stretched bare as he stared at the ceiling. He didn't look like a prisoner, but neither did he look happy to be there.

Peter gave Stiles a little wave from where he sat in the other chair with a bag of popcorn. Then he set a single finger against his lips briefly before lifting a piece of the popcorn and tossing it at Haha, No's head. It bounced off his nose and joined a few other kernels on the floor.

"I am going to outlaw popcorn. I have just decided to take over the world and make the popping of corn illegal." Haha, No groaned, but there was an overplayed not to it. "You've done it, Peter, awakened the megalomania even playing God with supernatural creatures failed to elicit within me."

"I see you're making friends," Stiles said, though he wasn't sure to which one.

Peter shrugged. Haha, No rolled his head to look in Stiles' direction and gave a more convincing groan. "You," he said, voice flat.

"Me."

"Present for you," Peter said before tugging Haha, No to stand. "Jacket off."

Haha, No rolled his eyes, but shrugged out of his jacket. He wore a plain black t-shirt beneath it, but Stiles wouldn't have cared if he had on a hot pink waistcoat. There were _scars_ on his arms. Scales too, on the left one, but scars on both. Rings circled both his wrists, made by ropes or chains or cuffs. There was a burn just at the edge of the scaling on his left elbow, like he'd landed in hot coals and taken the weight on that arm.

"Shirt too."

"You want me to just strip completely, Pete?"

Peter offered a smile. Haha, No rolled his eyes and tugged the t-shirt over his head as he turned around to present Stiles with his back. His burn- and lashing-scarred back. Claw marks ran along his lower back and disappeared past the waist of his pants along his hip.

"Did you build the arena?" Stiles asked.

Haha, No turned back around slowly. The smile had fallen from his scarred face, and he looked older without it. Peter nudged his shoulder, and Haha, No gritted his teeth and shook his head. When Peter nudged him again, he grunted, "No."

"Were you hired?"

Hatred burned in his eyes. "No."

"Were you abducted?"

Haha, No fumed but didn't answer. Peter grabbed his shoulder and let his claws sink through the scarred skin. "Yes."

"So... _not_ really in charge."

"I was this time. Won't probably be again sine I let myself get taken."

"Good, we're past the monosyllables. They don't suit you, Dimitri." Peter retracted his claws and patted Haha, No's shoulder.

"Was the kanima your partner?"

"They knew she'd been bitten, but not that she'd gone snake instead of dog. _I _didn't know werewolves were real yet. She hadn't worked up the nerve to tell me."

"So the change started because they forced you to kill." Stiles chuckled. "That sucks, man, but I think you've worked up to deserving it retroactively." Haha, No only glared at him. "What did they call you?"

"You people and your names, honestly."

"You seemed to care a lot about names from what I could tell," Stiles said.

"Changing the name changes a person's view of themselves." He glanced back at Peter and sighed. "Mostly snake jokes. I said, 'No,' every time someone tried one to my face, so then they started calling me that instead."

"You mean your name is Dr. No." Stiles smirked.

"I hate you so much. You're almost as bad as he is." He jerked a thumb at Peter.

"You're the one who apparently kept it."

Haha, No shrugged at that. He reclaimed his seat, though not his shirt or jacket. "Better than the name my father gave me."

"Dimitri? It's not that bad, dude."

"It's not the name so much as the source." He shrugged.

"Hey now, tell him _why." _Peter grinned his scary grin.

Haha, No closed his eyes and breathed tense and slow. When he opened his eyes, he looked ready to kill Peter, bond or no bond. "My father was in charge of recruitment."

"At the arena?"

"Yes, the old one."

"He knew what happened in there?"

"Yes, though it was a little different before I got my hands on it."

"Fascinating." Stiles kept his voice in monotone. Haha, No had confirmed he wasn't the only threat to Derek and Stiles. He wasn't even a founding member, just another prisoner converted into working for his captors.

Haha, No waved a hand. "It's silly of me to hold the grudge, I know, especially since I had him killed years ago. But what can I do?" He shrugged.

"After that he knows a few security protocols, which are scheduled to change if he's compromised, and the identities of some staff members and captives, though he had personnel to handle most of those details. He doesn't meet directly with his bosses because they know he's a freak, and they keep him trailing along by promising a cure they don't have. Even he doesn't fully understand his bosses motives, but he knows they like his super soldiers and call themselves Watchtower." Peter leaned against a pillar rather than sitting again. He crossed his arms and looked to Stiles, waiting for his response.

"So except for his personal sob story, he's useless."

"Looks that way."

"I guess it'd be pretty dumb to surround someone who is actually important with all those shape shifters and madmen."

"Huge security threat," Peter agreed.

"I get the feeling you're deciding to kill me." Haha, No sighed like death was a minor annoyance.

"I won't make that decision without Derek."

"Why?" Haha, No demanded, voice suddenly harsh. "I'm not _his _prisoner."

"But he's part of me now," Stiles said, tapping his temple. "Right in here where you wanted him. And that means he gets a vote too."

Haha, No's fearful expression made it clear he thought Derek more likely to condemn him than Stiles and Peter, which was interesting because everyone knew Stiles was the scary one.

_Speaking of me, _Derek thought, _Can I stop hiding in the car and come inside now?_

_ Go for it, _Stiles thought. He kept his eyes on Haha, No to see his expression when Derek entered. It turned out to be a grimace. Realization, but no surprise. Stiles wondered if Peter had known Derek was nearby.

_Peter always knows. _Maybe it wasn't always true, but Derek had found that to be a safe assumption most of the time. Safer than thinking he could hide anything from Peter.

_Still up for killing him?_ Stiles asked as Derek moved to stand beside him.

_Yes. _Derek's anger had cooled since returning home, but fire or ice, he always let anger take him.

"Peter." Stiles saw in Peter's eyes that he knew already, even if he couldn't read Peter's reaction. "You should dissolve that bond now."

"Already done."

Haha, No stood. "Don't suppose I can go down fighting?" He cocked his head. "Or running."

Stiles laughed, drawing a knife from where he'd strapped it to his arm beneath the sleeve of his jacket. "You can try."

"Damnit, I hate you."

"You seemed to like me when you were in charge."

"I did." He charged then with what could only be a death cry. If he'd been in the arena, then he knew how to fight, but he was unarmed, while Stiles had a knife and two werewolves.

Haha, No knocked Stiles knife aside and tackled him, going for a stranglehold. Stiles kept his hold on the weapon. Instead of wasting time protecting his throat, he brought the knife to Haha, No's neck. He stabbed three times before the strangling grip slackened. Blood poured over him and pooled on Stiles' torso as Haha, No died. He was smiling, so Stiles smiled back until Haha, No collapsed forward onto him.

Well, that was done with anyway.

**~.x.~**

Lydia held up her hands to count off points on her fingers. "So there's a bunch of them, and they have resources, and they're probably coming after you." She paused. "And you killed the scientist for not knowing enough to take you to his leaders."

"When you say it like that, I sound really stupid," Stiles grumbled.

The pack had gathered at Stiles' house. His dad felt safer with Stiles at home, and they could sit around and talk anywhere.

"You're not stupid," Allison said. "You were thinking with your feelings. He deserved to die. We just... could have used him."

"But I don't remember feeling much of anything."

Derek set a hand on Stiles' knee and squeezed, ignoring the dirty look Stiles' father shot at him.

"I know the feeling," Allison said. She rarely spoke about when Gerard manipulated her. Stiles thought the darkness behind her eyes now might be why.

"How do we stop them now?" Scott asked. "Are they really coming after you?"

"We don't know. Maybe." Stiles tried for a shrug, but nonchalance felt wrong now.

"We can't attack their base," Derek said. "It's too strong, and there are too few of us."

"I'm guessing we don't know any other places to attack." Most of the others seemed sad or worried, but Isaac looked angry, like he wanted something they could fight.

"We don't," Stiles admitted. Isaac didn't look disappointed, but neither did he look less mad.

"Then when they come back, we don't let them take you again," Scott said.

"We didn't let them take us the first two times," Derek pointed out.

"Could we bait them? Or follow them? Or something that makes their greater power into a plan instead of just... losing?" Allison asked. "We have to stop them somehow. What they're doing is wrong, even outside of what they've done to you." She wore an apology on her face, but there was fire in her eyes. Allison was Stiles' friend, but she was also a hunter. Hunters fought to protect people who didn't know about monsters, and these were definitely monsters.

"Hunters," Stiles said. They would want to defeat the monsters being used to harm humans, maybe even the humans using them. Assuming those in charge _were_ human. "If they knew about this, wouldn't they be obligated to take it out?"

"Maybe." Allison clung to each short syllable. 'Hunters' meant telling her father, which meant her family risking their lives. Then she sighed. "They would want to know. I'll talk to my dad." She eyed them each in turn then. "I probably won't be able to tell you what they decide, assuming they even tell me."

"We know," Stiles said. Hunters didn't trust werewolves, or humans who ran with them.

Allison stood, looked around the room one last time as she wiped her hands against her pants, and left. Lydia followed. Stiles set his hand over Derek's and let the others trickle out. There was nothing else they could do now except wait and see if war found them.

**~.x.~**

"My sly-to-the-supernatural therapist thinks I'm using magic subconsciously," Stiles said. No matter how many times he told his father Derek was _always_ with him, he wasn't supposed to visit Derek's loft, which was why Stiles hadn't told anyone he was going to Derek's loft. He lay now with his head in Derek's lap and his bare feet hanging off the end of the couch.

Derek ran his fingers through Stiles' short hair. "How?" He could pick it from Stiles' mind if he wanted, but they agreed to practice _talking. _They had been too close, frighteningly welded together, more than a few times. They needed to practice being separate.

"I rely on surprise, distraction, and misdirection, and she thinks I manage to use my face like a talisman to channel magic through and push them toward the response I want. That kind of magic isn't perfect, but apparently I'm good at it."

"And what does your other therapist think?"

Stiles frowned. "That I'm dangerously unstable, complete with phone call to my dad warning him I could hurt someone."

"They're both probably responding to your face. It _is_ pretty scary."

"Hey!" Stiles swatted at Derek until he caught one of Stiles' fingers between his teeth. He didn't bite down, but Stiles remembered his offer. He thought Derek did too. "I, um..." He licked his lips. "I don't want it. The bite."

Derek released Stiles' finger. "I know."

"You know?"

"In your head, remember?" He caught Stiles' hand and kissed the finger he'd held captive. "You like being human. It works for you. I get it."

"Derek, you're awesome. Have I mentioned that?"

"No."

"Well, you are, and shame on me for not saying so."

Derek smiled, soft and warm. Somehow, it made him look sad, maybe because of all the years he had been unable to smile like this. "I love you, Stiles" he whispered, stroking Stiles hair.

"I love you too."

They were happy and at home, not locked away somewhere horrible. Stiles shared that realization with Derek as he sat up and leaned in to kiss him. It was the first time Derek thought they might be okay, that they might be able to live together instead of just fight together.

Stiles willed his eye to stop twitching.

**End**

A/N: When I finished This is Not Our Fate, I thought I wouldn't come back to it for a long time if not ever. While I don't have plans for a sequel to Shouting Back to the Night at this time, I'm not about to make the same mistake again. I love the Watchtower 'verse, and while I need to get working on some original writing if I ever want to do that thing where I'm published, I also love fanfiction too much to give it up entirely. So what I'm saying is, don't expect more soon, but don't necessarily expect it never either.

Thank you for reading! Another thank you for commenting! I hope this fic lived up to the first.


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